


The Heart of a Warrior

by OpalSpirit



Series: Folktales AU [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mulan (1998), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Asgard (Marvel), Atticus - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bows & Arrows, Branding, Bravery, Brother-Sister Relationships, Deception, Disguise, Dökkálfar | Dokkalfar | Dark Elves (Norse Religion & Lore), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Exile, F/M, Feels galore, Forced Servitude, Ghosts, Haunting, Impersonation, Infertility, Infidelity, Inspired by Mulan (1998), Invasion, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Lang Leav, Light Elves, Lines taken from Loki's Whispers, Lip sewing, Longing, Loss of Virginity, Lullabies, Magic, Matchmaking, Memories, Michael Faudet, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Nikita Gill, Pablo Neruda's Poetry, Public Humiliation, Revenge, Shakespearean Sonnets, Sindarin, Slow Burn, Stolen Child, Stolen Moments, Suicide, Swordfighting, Use of Elven Language, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, War, angst central - Freeform, beau taplin, mortal combat, odin's A+ parenting skills, Álfheimr | Alfheim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 58
Words: 146,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: "You would risk exposure to save me?"She looked down and nodded, unable to meet his eye.'Why?""Do you know Elvish Your Highness?""Of course.""Then you know why."~ ~ ~Once thought to be extinct, the Dark Elves, lead by the infernal Malekith, seek to invade Asgard.Made aware of their presence and the looming threat to his people, Odin Allfather sends out a call to the far corners of the Realm Eternal. The call to arms. Every able bodied man is to report for duty to repel the invaders.Her brother is no different. And yet he is. Permanently injured during the last war, he is unable to fight, yet is determined to do so. For the honour of the family. Unable to allow such a thing, she takes his place, unknown to her family until it is too late.Thrust into the heart of a war, her mettle is tested. For she hides more than who she is. Will her lies hold out when confronted by the Silvertongued Prince himself? Or will they crumble and all her secrets be brought to light?
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Series: Folktales AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799605
Comments: 69
Kudos: 618





	1. Prologue: All too real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a terrible waste of life it is, to always to take the easy path, to never know what it is to risk everything for what you love.
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin (The Path)

The only warning they received was a streak of light that arched through the night sky. Stretching from one corner of the realm to the other. A breath of silence before all erupted into chaos. The peace of Asgard was shattered as their enemies launched their attack.

The translucent shield surrounding the realm threatened to shatter under the relentless attacks of the unseen enemy.

The citadel became abuzz with activity as the palace came alive and the Allfather's War Council was called. The King's two sons were in attendance, the Queen too.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Prince Thor demanded the moment he stepped through the doors into the council chambers.

His brother, Prince Loki, stood off to the side, silently eyeing the group of assembled Generals. His emerald eyes settled on the gatekeeper, golden-eyed Heimdall.

"Malekith," was all he said, drawing gasps from the small assembly.

"How is that possible?" Queen Frigga asked, her voice though soft, commanded the attention of all in the room. "Was he not slain by Bor?" She asked, turning to her husband.

Odin nodded and leaned heavily on the map-strewn table before him. Looking up, he met his wife's questioning gaze. "So it was thought."

"Then how is he here?" Loki spoke for the first time since entering. Folding his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed in thought. "And more importantly, why?"

No one seemed able to know the answer and a heavy silence settled over them.

"How far away is he?" Thor asked, moving to stand at his father's side.

"He has yet to breach the barrier," Odin replied, glancing down at where a detailed map of the realm lay spread before him. "Though Heimdall believes it is only a matter of time before he succeeds."

"It is time we strengthened our numbers."

All turned to the speaker in surprise. For it was not Thor who had spoken, but his brother.

"How? There is no time to recruit and train," came the reasoning of one of the more distinguished generals.

"Then call on those who have served before," Loki replied smoothly. "Those who have been discharged from our ranks. All those who are able to bare arms."

The assembled glanced at each other before turning to the Allfather.

Odin eyed his youngest, who met his one-eyed gaze head on. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. "Send out riders," he announced. "Have them go to every town and village, bearing orders to take up arms against our enemy. To fight for Asgard."

"Now my King?"

Odin nodded. "Waste no time. Malekith is on our doorstep."

Thor looked across to his brother and smirked. The younger Prince responded with a small nod before turning on his heels and sweeping from the chamber.

Frigga followed close behind and halted him before he could reenter his chambers. "It is not in your nature to suggest such things."

Loki raised a questioning brow. "What is it you mean, mother? Should I not think of the safety of my home?"

The Queen sighed. "Of course you should, my son. I am surprised, that is all."

"Why?" Loki asked, fighting a smirk. "Because it was not Thor who made the suggestion?"

"No," Frigga replied softly. "Perhaps it is because this is the first time you have spoken to the War Council."

"Those old fools would not have heeded my words had Father not approved of it. You saw the way they looked to him first." The words were spoken with no small amount of venom.

"Old they may be," Frigga agreed, smiling gently at her youngest. "But fools they are not. All in that room have seen combat."

"Even you?" Loki asked, his gaze softening. "For you were in that chamber too, if memory serves."

"Before your time," Frigga answered. "Before I was blessed with you and your brother."

"In that case, will you accept my most humble apology? I did not mean to offend you," Loki looked at his mother as he had as a child. His emerald eyes honest and sincere.

"Of course I will," Frigga said softly, reaching up to cradle her son's cheek with her palm. "You are as capable of leading armies as your brother and all those generals there. You have the heart of a warrior my son." Pride shone from her eyes like stars.

Loki knew not what to say and so he did the only thing he could. He held his mother close in an embrace, his face buried in her long hair.

Frigga chuckled softly and held her son close. Her hands traced soothing patterns along the plane of his back and her fingers carded through his ebony locks. Her precious boy.

Drawing back after a while, Loki looked to her before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, mother."

The Queen smiled at her son and nodded. "Goodnight my son. I wish you pleasant dreams, for tomorrow we are at war."


	2. Honour for the family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Dammit! Why wouldn't it work? Y/N ground her teeth in frustration as the spell failed once again. She had followed the instructions to the letter, yet no matter how hard she tried, it just would not work.

Throwing her arms up in frustration, she let out a growl and kicked the nearest tree, nearly breaking her toes for her troubles. Huffing, she slid to the ground, back against the very same tree and cast her eyes up to the cloudless sky. That blue expanse that was latticed with the crowns of the trees she sat beneath. The sun shone through the branches, creating a tranquil atmosphere. A slight breeze passed through, ruffling the strands of her hair that had come loose from her simple plait, it played with the hem of her dress and danced among the woodland flowers and grasses.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before letting it out again. Her eyes reopened slowly, as though she was waking from a long sleep. Extending her right hand, she lazily drew intricate patterns to life in the air before her. She watched, fascinated as they moved, twisting the sunlight and creating prismatic patterns of rainbow coloured light on the forest floor.

With a heavy, drawn out sigh, she pushed herself to her feet. She had gotten a little waylaid from her morning task of collecting herbs for her mother's medicinal concoctions. Her e/c eyes widened at the thought of her mother. Swearing under her breath, she scrambled to collect her half-filled basket and dashed off towards the village in which she lived with her mother, brother and grandmother.

Known for her punctuality, Y/N knew that this incident would not be easily forgotten. Her mother had decided that it was high time that her daughter ought to be wed and had therefore arranged for her to meet with the village matchmaker. One of the village elders she was, and known for creating many successful matches for all the girls in the village. As much as Y/N dreaded the idea of marrying someone she had never met, she did not want to disappoint her mother.

Kicking up clouds of dust as she ran, Y/N entered the village, drawing curious and amused stares from people she had known her whole life. Everyone in the village knew what was happening.

Had she not been running, Y/N would have breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the sign to her mother's apothecary shop swing into view. Instead, she smiled to herself and veered towards it, almost stumbling in her eagerness and hurry.

The door flew open to announce her to an empty shop. Frowning then groaning, Y/N hurried to the back room and planted the basket on the preparation table and shot out the door again. She was late! She prayed that they had not tired of waiting.

At that very moment, her dear mother Helena, was negotiating with the matchmaker to wait just that little bit longer. Beside her stood her mother-in-law, chuckling at her absent granddaughter's antics.

"This isn't funny," Helena grumbled and scanned the streets once more. "Of all the days that she has chosen to be late, it had to be this one."

"Relax _lellig,_ " her mother-in-law reassured her. "I am sure that Y/N is close by."

"By the Valar I hope you are right," Helena muttered. "For her sake."

As the older woman made to reply, a very frazzled and out-of-breath Y/N stumbled around the corner. "Mother," she panted, skidding to a halt. "I'm so sor-"

Helena held up a hand, effectively silencing her daughter. "They are waiting for you."

Nodding quickly, Y/N skirted around her mother and entered the house behind them. Making a conscious effort to calm her breathing, Y/N smoothed her hair the best she could and walked silently behind the matchmaker's assistant as she was led into the main room.

Five other girls were there, all her age and looking much more composed than she felt, and perhaps looked.

The matchmaker, an elderly woman with the spirit of one half her age, glanced up at her entrance and frowned before addressing her in a stern tone. "Good of you to finally join us, Y/N Hrókrdóttir."

Flushing with embarrassment, Y/N took her place next to a girl with hair as red as blood. The girl offered her a small smile before refocusing her attention forward.

The matchmaker's words melted into a drone and Y/N soon found herself drifting off. Her body, not used to excessive physical exercise, was sore after that dash from the woods and Y/N knew that she would be paying for it in more ways that one before the day was out.

"Y/N," the sound of her name snapped her back to her present situation.

"Yes?" She replied and was confused when the other girls stared at her in shock. It took her a moment to realise that she was not meant to have replied.

Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, the matchmaker ushered her forward. "One of the virtues of a good wife is grace in everything she does. For example, even the simple act of pouring wine must look elegant." With a motion of her hand, she gestured for Y/N to take the simple stone jug filled with wine and to pour it into the waiting goblet.

If she had been allowed, Y/N would have sighed with relief at the simple task. It was one she had done on numerous occasions, especially on nights spent with her brother, challenging each other to drinking contests and draining the household's supply of wine in the process. Their mother had long since given up and merely told them to replenish the stores.

Taking hold of the jug, she angled it towards the empty goblet and soon ruby liquid poured gracefully into the cup. Delighted that she had finally gotten something right, Y/N would have grinned like a cheshire cat, if in fact she had stopped pouring.

"Watch yourself girl!" Came the matchmaker's exclamation as wine flowed from the cup, onto the table and soaked into her dark blue gown.

Startled, Y/N set down the jug and with practiced movements, she whispered an incantation to prevent the staining of the fabric and for the wine to evaporate.

The matchmaker watched her with a slight frown. While magic was indeed a woman's art, it was not approved of by most of her village, as no one outside her family was able to do it.

The other girls watched her with thinly veiled admiration and wonder. For when her magic manifested itself, it was of a light rosy hue and carried the faint scent of peonies.

"Enough of that," the matchmaker muttered before pulling Y/N to her feet. "And of course, appearance is of the utmost importance. One captures the eye first."

Nodding in agreement, the remaining girls watched as attendants filed into the room with swathes of fabric and hair ornaments. Y/n was forced to sit still as they combed her hair and fashioned the h/c strands into the traditional Aesir style. Her hair was piled atop her head in, held in place with numerous pins and a strand of sparkling gems to compliment her hair colour. The gown she was fitted with was of a silvery gray with an embellished collar of polished silver beads.

Her face was painted to accentuate her stunning e/c eyes and shell-pink lips. Y/N fought not to blink when they painted near her eye or traced it with kohl.

It was only when a commotion from outside sounded, that Y/N broke from her statue-like state and bolted for the door, eager to see what the fuss was all about. The shouts of the matchmaker faded behind her as she came to a halt beside her newly arrived brother Vídarr.

"What's going on?" She whispered to him.

"A rider from the capital has just arrived," he replied in the same tone, his right hand shifting slightly in its grip of his staff.

This piqued her interest. "Why?"

"I know as much as you," Vídarr replied and motioned for her to be quiet as the rider came into view, the remaining half of the village following close behind.

"Citizens of Asgard," the rider said in a loud tone, addressing the amassed crowd. "We are under attack by the Dökkálfar, led by the ruthless Malekith." Horrified gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd at his words. He continued to speak despite the obvious unease. "In order to aid in the repelling of our enemy, Odin Allfather commands all those who were once in service to the Crown to once more pledge themselves and take up their swords in this fight."

Y/N felt the cold fingers of dread trail down her spine and she prayed that her brother would keep silent.

But it seemed that the Norns had a different idea.

Using his staff as support, Vídarr stepped forward. "I, Vídarr Hrókrson, do hereby pledge my sword as in days passed."

Y/N's gasp of horror was cut short as her brother made to kneel in fealty. Yet it was his leg, the one plagued by an old war wound, that gave way beneath him. Launching herself forward, Y/N grasped her brother's arm and helped him to stand. The stares of the crowd and the rider meant little to her as she lifted her chin and spoke, her voice strong and unwavering. "As my brother is wounded from the last war, I shall stand in his place."

The rider looked down at her with first shock, then a smile that was not at all friendly. "You should remember your place, Hrókrdóttir. As your brother has."

Anger surged through her and with no small amount of effort, she kept silent. She watched silently as her brother accepted his marching orders and together they melted back into the crowd.

Later that night, Y/N could not find it within herself to sleep. Her mind was restless and would afford her no peace. Giving up, she tossed the bed covers aside and stood. Silently creeping through the house, she heard a faint shuffling and went to investigate.

Her heart leapt to her throat when she caught sight of her brother. He stood as tall as he could in the centre of the room, his sword in his right hand. The grip so firm his knuckles were turning white.

Y/N knew that swords of any kind were heavy and that it took great strength to skillfully wield one. The strength her brother had once had, but no longer possessed. His leg gave out the minute he shifted into a combat position and Y/N felt her heart squeeze painfully. Family honour, that was her brother's reason, she knew it was.

Silently waiting in the shadows until he had gone, Y/N approached the table where he kept his sword and armour. Reaching out a hand and letting it hover, she made her decision.

Using a simple illusion to mask her true appearance beneath a more masculine one, she slipped on her brother's armour piece by piece. It was a little too large, but that mattered little to her. Taking up his sword, she held it carefully and silently swore to all her ancestors and to the deities her family worshiped, that she would bring her family the honour they desired and spare her brother's pride.

Belting the sword around her hips, she left the room and made for her brother's chambers. Entering, she found him sleeping soundly and smiled fondly at her elder sibling. By the table at his bedside she saw the roll of parchment. Moving as quietly as she could, she retrieved the scroll and whispered a soft farewell to her sleeping brother.

Slipping out of the house, she made for the shed that served as the family stables and saddled the only horse there. A chestnut stallion of mild temperament. Mounting up, she settled herself before taking up the reins. "It's going to be me and you from now on Tallagor." With those words, she directed him from the shed-like stable and out into the night.

With one final glance over her shoulder, she whispered, _"goheno nin, toron."_ With tears that only the moon and stars were witness too, she spurred Tallagor into a gallop and rode into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The elvish spoken in this story will be mainly Sindarin. 
> 
> Lellig = Daughter  
> Goheno nin = Forgive me  
> Toron = Brother  
> Tallagor = Swift foot
> 
> If I have gotten any wrong, please tell me.


	3. Prayers for safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your ancestors did not survive everything that nearly ended them for you to shrink yourself to make someone else comfortable. 
> 
> This sacrifice is your war cry, be loud, be everything and make them proud. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill (Ancestors)

Her absence was noticed too late. The sun had risen above the distant horizon by the time Helena found her only daughter to be missing. Y/N was an early riser and was often out of the house before the rest of the family even woke.

Vídarr woke to sounds of his mother calling to Y/N, her voice bordering on hysterical. Alert within moments, he rolled to the side of the bed where his staff was propped. Reaching for it, his eyes landed on his nightstand. 

_Oh no. She didn't._

Limping from his chamber, he found his mother near to tears in the kitchen, their grandmother busy making a pot of herbal tea. "I am certain she will be back soon," she assured her frantic daughter-in-law. "You know that she rises before the sun on most days and doesn't return home until midday." 

"If I might stop you there," Vídarr spoke softly, announcing his presence to the two women. "I do not believe that Y/N will be coming home anytime soon."

Standing up from where she had been sitting by the kitchen table, Helena went to her son. "What are you saying?"

"I have a suspicion. It is rather convincing."

"Well?" Helena encouraged. "What is it?"

"We all remember the incident in the village square yesterday?"

When both women nodded, Vídarr continued. "When I woke up this morning, the scroll with my orders was gone. I believe that Y/N fully intends to follow through with what she said yesterday."

"Surely not," Helena whispered, horrified.

"I pray that I am wrong," Vídarr said softly. "Let us see if my armour and Tallagor are still where they ought to be." With those words, he turned and led his mother and grandmother to a much smaller room and opened the door. 

Stepping inside, they saw no signs of Vídarr's armour, only the wooden mannequin he always hung it on and the empty plinth where his sword was always proudly displayed.

"No," Helena shook her head, "she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't just leave!"

"I am willing to bet that the horse is gone too," his grandmother remarked, earning a glare from Helena.

"I have to go," Helena whispered, holding a hand to her heart.

"Where?" Vídarr asked.

"To the shrine," Helena replied. "If Y/N has truly done this, then there only a very few who can help her now."

Sighing and smiling sadly, Vídarr watched his mother go.

The path to the family shrine was a well worn one. Helena had visited it many times, as had her husband before he died in the same war that had injured their son. Hidden in the woods behind their home and shielded by an illusion, a stone building came into view, covered in moss and ivy.

Passing through the wards set up to protect it, Helena entered in.

It was truly a sight to behold, even to none-believers. Likenesses of the Valar were carved into tall, lifelike statues that surrounded a collection of intricately carved tombstones. Each which bore the name of a deceased family member.

Soft light filled the shrine, gentle streams of it coming from the torches that never flickered.

Falling to her knees within the circle, Helena looked beseeching towards the marble likeness of Varda, the Queen of the Valar. _" Nin híril Varda, rís -o i elena, im humblui ask cin na hear nin." _After a breath of reverent silence, she spoke again, _"Nin Y/N na- far o bar. Im humblui beseech cin na guide hen bar safelui."_

The shrine remained silent and after placing a bouquet of star-blossoms as the foot of the statue, Helena rose to her feet and looked to her husband's tombstone. "I never thought her to be impulsive," she said softly. "But I suppose she gets that from you _amaelamin,_ " the words were followed by a fond smile before she took her leave, gently closing the stone doors behind her. 

As the sun sank below the horizon and the sky darkened, ancient magic came to life within the elven shrine. With a delicate groan, one of the statues began to move. Stretching her arms above her, she summoned the light of the stars to shine within the the shrine. 

Her long hair, as dark as night, flowed around her. Her eyes, like stars, glowed to life. Extending a shapely hand, she reached towards a pillar where a stone serpent was coiled. So intricate were its carvings that it appeared lifelike. 

Her lips curved into a smile as she whispered, "Jörmungandr? _Echuiv- " _evident amusement widened her smile as the carving was brought to life and the serpent in question landed in a rather undignified heap at her feet with a hissed yelp. 

"Who dares to insult this family? Just show me where they are and I will make them rue the day!" The voice of the serpent rung loudly through the shrine as he righted himself, drawing himself to his full height, silvery scales gleaming in the light.

"Jörmungandr," Varda spoke gently, cutting his tirade short and gaining his startled attention. "You are no longer a guardian of this family. Who are they?"

Muttering sullenly to himself, Jörmungandr flicked his forked tongue to where carved statues of fearsome and elegant beasts sat atop pedestals. "They are," he admitted reluctantly. 

The Star Queen nodded. "Indeed, now if you would be so kind as to wake the ancestors? That is your job is it not?" 

Nodding, the silver serpent slithered his way to where a silver bell swung from between two smaller columns. Using himself as a weight, he rung the bell, sending its peals echoing through the chamber. "Wakey wakey," he called, his voice louder than when he woke. "Come along people. Look as alive as you can."

Soon, lights like fireflies swirled amongst the small number of tombstones, bringing the names to life. 

Moving to stand among the spirits, Varda silenced the bickering crowd with but a single glance. "I have not woken you for you to lay blame. Y/N has left to fight in her brother's place. She must be found and brought back, it is up to you, her ancestors, to send a guardian most suited to the task." 

"We should send the swiftest," one spirit suggested, gesturing to the statue of a pegasus, whose wings were spread majestically as it reared up. 

"No no," another protested, "we should send the most fearsome." With a hand he indicated towards the statue of a snarling wolf. 

"And scare her to death?!" Asked another, "no, we should send the wisest," pointing to the statue of a phoenix. 

Soon the bickering rose again, causing Varda to pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh with exasperation. They were acting as children. "No," she said softly, gaining silence and attention. "Since a unanimous decision is unable to be reached, I shall decide." 

Silence reigned as the spirits held their breath. 

"It shall be the strongest of them all. The dragon that guards this shrine will be the one to bring Y/N back home." Her words hung in the air as she turned to look pointedly at Jörmungandr. " _Echuiv- hon."_

Dragging the bell along behind him, Jörmungandr slithered from the shrine as Varda opened the doors. All the while muttering to himself about unfair this whole situation was. Before he knew it, however, the towering and imposing statue of a three-headed dragon stood above him.   


Swallowing hard, Jörmungandr set about ringing the bell. "Up you get," he called to the statue, who remained unmoving. "Come along now. Sleepy time is over." When still no response came, he became impatient and used his tail to swing the bell and in so doing, causing the pedestal to crack. "Oh boy," he whispered, glancing up at the stone figure. "This can't be good." And how right he was. Not long after, thick cracks flowed out and soon they covered the statue like cobwebs and before he knew it, the entire thing collapsed. 

The snake looked fearfully at the ruins of one of the family guardians before his eyes lit up with an idea. Slithering behind one of the heads that had remained intact, he spoke in the deepest voice he could manage. "Good evening my Lady and all the ancestors. I have awoken and will go forth to bring Y/N home. Safe and sound." Jörmungandr cringed as he spoke the last words. 

Varda had seen everything and smiled. Shaking her head in fond exasperation for the troublesome reptile, she played along and feigned ignorance. "See that you do, mighty one. Do not return unless she is with you." Perhaps this would be a chance for Jörmungandr to prove himself worthy once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nin híril Varda, rís -o i elena, im humblui ask cin na hear nin" = My Lady Varda, Queen of the Stars, I humbly ask you to hear me.
> 
> "Nin Y/N na- far o bar. Im humblui beseech cin na guide hen bar safelui" = My Y/N is far from home. I humbly beseech you to guide her home safely. 
> 
> "amaelamin" = my beloved. 
> 
> "Echuiv-" = awaken. 
> 
> "Echuiv- hon" = awaken him.


	4. New, and perhaps, undesired companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm was coming but that's not what I smelled. It was adventure on the wind and it shivered down my spine. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Following the directions given with the marching order, Y/N rode through the night in order to make it to the training camp before dawn.

That, however, was before it started to rain and she was forced to find shelter in a cave that was big enough for Tallagor to fit in alongside. She did not dare to try and take off her brother's armour for fear of not being able to put it on again quick enough once the rain had stopped. Sitting against the far wall of the cave, she gazed sullenly out into the rain. In any other situation she would have rejoiced.

Letting out a resigned sigh, she dried herself with a flicker of magic and Tallagor too, she was not too fond of the smell of wet horse. Tallagor it seemed, was most grateful for it as he neighed softly and nuzzled the top of her head, earning a chuckle from her. "A slight setback," she murmured to him, reaching up to stroke his muzzle. "Let us hope it doesn't last long, it wouldn't do for us to be the last ones there."

Feeling her eyelids grow heavy, she leaned her head back against the rough stone. "Wake me when the rain stops," she said to Tallagor before slipping into the sweet embrace of sleep.

It felt like a minute later when she felt something slide along her ankle. Her eyes flew open and she leapt into the air with a rather undignified shriek, startling Tallagor in the process.

"I can't say I'm surprised by that greeting," said a voice somewhere near the ground. "But I suppose that comes with the territory of being a snake. There generally isn't an over abundance of warm welcomes."

Shakily summoning an orb of light, Y/N peered hesitantly in the direction of the voice. "Who are you? What do you want?" She cursed inwardly at the trembling of her voice.

"Down here."

Directing the light down, Y/N saw a silvery snake look up at her. If snakes could smile, she supposed this one would have been. "Who are you?" She asked again, more confused than frightened now, though still very hesitant about approaching it.

"How very rude of me," the snake replied before dipping its head in a version of a bow. "My name is Jörmungandr and I have been charged by your dearly departed to bring you home."

At this Y/N raised an eyebrow. "My ancestors sent you?" 

"There might have been one of the Valar among them."

Both her eyes brows shot up at this news. "The _Valar_ sent you?!"

The snake, Jörmungandr, sighed and shook his head. "Only one and the rest were your dead relatives."

Y/N swallowed hard at this new information. Her family must have discovered her absence and had gone to the family shrine. "But," she said and paused for a moment before continuing, "why did they send _you?"_

"Well thank you for the vote of confidence," Jörmungandr huffed.  


"You know what I mean," Y/N said, allowing the light to float on its own so she could fold her arms. "You're so small. I thought the guardians were supposed to be bigger."

"Well you're no giant yourself," Jörmungandr retorted, "so I'd be careful about remarking about heights if I were you. The last I checked you were headed straight for a camp full of men that are no doubt bigger than you, by a long shot."

Y/N ground her teeth and bit back a remark, he was right. She hated to admit it, but he was right. 

"So," Jörmungandr continued, "we had best head back before you do something you'll regret."

"Go back? You mean, go home?" She asked, shocked. Shaking her head, she spoke again, "there is no way in all the Nine Realms that I will be heading back. I have come this far already, it would be like admitting defeat before the fight has even started."

"Oh boy," the snake muttered to himself, his forked tongue flicking out. "This is going to be a lot harder than I thought." Looking up at her, he narrowed his eyes. "And what might your plan be once you arrive at the camp?" 

"Easy," she replied, smiling smugly. "I've cast an illusion to make me appear more masculine and I will simply give myself another name, when they ask for the orders, I'll give them my brother's."

"Have you ever fought with a proper weapon before?" Jörmungandr asked skeptically. "Because I believe that these soldiers will all be very much experienced." He watched with barely restrained amusement as her smile fell. "You haven't have you?"

Y/N paused before answering. "I know defensive magic and a little hand-to-hand combat."

"Excellent," the snake muttered under his breath. Speaking to her, his voice grew a little louder. "I'm not usually one to judge or make presumptions but, something tells me that your magic won't go down all that well in a camp of Einherjar and experienced soldiers."

"I'm fair at archery?" She suggested, "my aim isn't all that bad."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Jörmungandr asked, his eyes wide. "These skills will set you up as a target more than a fellow compatriot."

"Why?" Y/N asked, genuinely confused. 

"Because you are an elf!" Jörmungandr exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "Elves are the enemy here remember?" 

"The dark elves are," she corrected him. "I'm not one of those."

Jörmungandr rolled his eyes. "They will not distinguish, believe you me. They will see your magic, your excellent aim and pointy ears and before you know it, you've become one of their practice mannequins."  


"Then what do you suggest I do?" She asked in an irritated whisper, her patience was wearing thin. 

"Do not let even a hint slip," Jörmungandr replied, "make sure the only magic you practice is holding that illusion in place. And you had best hope _he_ isn't there."

"I'd best hope who isn't there?"

The snake sighed as though the answer was overly obvious. "The Dark Prince. The Silvertongue." After every title he looked to her and saw no hint of recognition and rolled his eyes. How could she not possibly know? "The Sorcerer Prince. Loki Liesmith," it was those two titles that sparked recognition in her e/c eyes. 

Y/N swallowed nervously. She had heard plenty of stories about him and his preference for the power of the mind rather than of brute force. Stories of his proficiency in magic had spread even to her village. "Why should I be worried if he's there?" She asked in a small voice. 

"Because he is able to detect magic," Jörmungandr explained. "They say he is able to smell it out. It will not bode well for you should he discover you."

Y/N nodded as though in understanding. 

"Oh, and one more thing," Jörmungandr continued. "You will have to practice acting like a man. If you keep on acting the way you normally do, your act is gonna be up pretty quickly." 

Y/N curled her lip in apparent disgust of the notion and groaned when she realised she had little choice. Behind her, Tallagor snuffled and nudged her shoulder. 

"Your ride here says that the rain's stopped," Jörmungandr supplied, grinning if snakes had been able. 

Y/N sneered at him. "He has a name by the way," with those words she took hold of the reigns and led Tallagor back outside. 

Jörmungandr would not be left behind. Slithering after her, he deftly curled himself loosely around her neck. "If you intend on doing this, then there is no way I'm letting you do it alone."

Startled to see the snake right by her ear, Y/N fought back a yelp and rolled her eyes instead. "Aren't you supposed to be convincing me to go home?" 

"After all that advice I gave you?" The snake asked, sounding genuinely offended, "nope. No way. I'm coming and there is nothing you can do about it."

Unable to think of anything to shoot back, she simply huffed before swinging herself up into the saddle. 

"I hope you know where we're going" Jörmungandr said while slithering down to loosely wrap himself around the saddle pommel. 

"Of course I do," she replied, directing Tallagor back onto the path. "The directions were given with the orders. We should be there in two hours."

"Plenty of time to practice then," Jörmungandr informed her, sounding a little too satisfied with himself. "And to come up with a believable name."

Groaning, Y/N urged Tallagor into a canter. It was going to be a long two hours. 


	5. First impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was trouble, chaos really but her smile her smile dared me to fall in love with her. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer! Lines spoken by the characters as they appear in the movie are the property of their original creators.

The camp was unlike anything she could ever have imagined. Tents had been erected in seemingly endless rows and soldiers in all states of uniform mingled and meandered about.

Y/N took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Bitten off more than you could chew?" Jörmungandr piped up from her shoulder. 

"No," she replied, lifting her chin and glaring down at the serpent wound loosely around her shoulders. "It is just a little bigger than I initially thought."

"Well, you had better get real used to it," Jörmungandr said, his forked tongue flicking out. "This is gonna be your home for a while."

"Thank you so much," Y/N deadpanned, "I had quite forgotten."

Jörmungandr opened his mouth to reply when he took note of her tone and narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't you get smart with me."  


"And don't you go stating the obvious," Y/N tossed back. "I have eyes, I can see."

"Then I hope you can see those three fellas heading our way," Jörmungandr whispered, "they don't look too friendly."

Y/N opened her mouth to say something back when the trio stopped right before her. They looked vaguely familiar, but no names came to mind. 

"You look a little lost," said the blonde one, rather dashing too if Y/N was being honest with herself. 

"Indeed," his companion chimed in. To Y/N, he was easily the largest man she had ever seen. His bushy red beard hung almost to his belt and a rather intimidating battle-axe rested against his shoulder. 

"Like a lamb amongst wolves," added the third. Y/N fought not to glare at the dark haired man, he was evidently of Vanir descent and carried a rather unfriendly looking mace. 

"I am no lamb, sir," she replied as politely as she could manage. "I am simply answering the call of the Allfather."

"You don't look like much of a fighter," blondie commented, lifting her left arm to inspect it. "You've got hardly any meat on you as it is."

That was it for her. "Remove your hand," she said, glaring at the blonde man. 

"Or what pretty boy?" Red beard taunted.

"I will rip his arm off and beat him to death with it," Y/N stated simply, adding a smile for good measure. 

"Below the radar," Jörmungandr muttered in her ear. "Below the radar."

The three men looked alarmed and affronted at her words. Clearly they had not been expecting that for a response. 

"You've chosen to insult the wrong people boy," the Vanir hissed, brandishing his mace.

"Are there any right ones?" Y/N quipped, earning a groan from the serpent hidden in her armour. 

"You won't live long enough to find out," blondie retorted, drawing a rapier that glittered cruelly in the late morning sun. 

"Nice going," Jörmungandr groaned when the remaining two brought their weapons to bare. 

Y/N smiled, her nerves permitting her to do little else. Drawing her brother's sword, she held it before her. "If it is a fight you want gentlemen, than you shall have it."

Three against one, it was hardly fair and the four of them knew it. But it had become a matter of pride. Their fight-turned-brawl soon drew the attention of the rest of the camp. Not that any of them noticed. 

Wielding her brother's sword as best she could, Y/N wished fervently that she could use her magic. It would make everything so much easier. Dancing out of the rapier's reach, she dodged the axe and struck at the arm holding the mace. 

"You are such an idiot," Jörmungandr hissed as she was backed into a corner by the blonde. 

"Thank you for the encouragement," she bit back and narrowly missed the swipe of the blade as she tucked and rolled. Reaching for her sword that had fallen a short distance, she snarled with irritation when it was kicked away from her grasp by the dark-haired Vanir. 

Shooting to her feet, she felt a firm grasp on her sword arm. Seeing no other option, she spun to face her attacker and swung with her free hand, the blow landing solidly on red-beard's jaw, causing him to stumble back. 

Snatching up her sword, she held it to the Vanir's neck. "I would think twice if I were you," she panted, ignoring the venomous glare coming from the man. 

"You too," she said to the blonde, who was attempting to sneak behind her. Remembering that her brother liked to keep a dagger on hand, strapped to the back, she reached for it and held it to his throat. 

"Why you little-"

"Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg!" A booming voice interrupted the blonde's impending insult to her. "What is the meaning of this?" 

Y/N was faintly aware of Jörmungandr making a slightly panicked sound, but her attention was focused more on the pair that approached the group. 

"Your Highness," the blonde replied, making Y/N's eyes widen a fraction. "We were simply handling the training of one of the newer among our ranks."

Y/N fought the urge to scoff at the blatant lie. Dropping her arms, she fell to her knees. 

"A little late for that," Jörmungandr muttered unhelpfully. 

"Fandral," the Prince addressed the blonde, "that is evidently not the case. My brother and I saw the whole thing from our tent, didn't we Loki?"

Y/N felt all the blood leave her face and she suddenly felt faint. 

"Yes indeed," came the drawled response and Y/N felt her heart stutter with fear as to how close he was. "Though it was all rather entertaining. Seeing someone such as this best you." 

"We were not bested," red beard retorted, clearly offended by the younger Prince's remark.

"Then why do you cradle your jaw and these two had blades at their throats?" 

A rather awkward silence fell on the camp following the Prince's question. 

A silence that was broken by the booming voice of the older prince as he addressed her. "Who are you young man?" 

"I suggest you answer him," Jörmungandr whispered, sounding nervous. 

Y/N swallowed hard before finally answering, "Fintan Hrókrson," she replied, eyes still downcast, "Your Highnesses."

"White fire indeed," Loki murmured, seemingly to himself more than anyone else. "You may rise, Fintan," he said, voice a little louder. 

Shakily rising to her feet, Y/N kept her eyes down. More out of fear than respect. 

"You may look at us," his brother said, a smile in his voice. 

And so she did. The brothers were as different as night and day. Where Thor was broad, Loki was lithe and slimly built. Where Thor's hair shone like spun gold, Loki's glistened like the wing of a raven. Thor's eyes were kind as they regarded her and as blue as the sky above them. Loki's, however, were as green as fresh moss and as hard as ice as he regarded her, narrowed like that of a snake. 

For a moment, a brief terrible moment, Y/N was convinced that he could see right through her. That her little act was up. Jörmungandr's earlier words coming back to haunt her. 

"You fight well," he said instead, surprising her and making her knees go weak with relief. "Even when pitched against Asgard's supposed best."

"Loki," Thor scolded his brother, frowning. 

Loki, however, looked far from repentant and smirked in way of response. 

"Welcome," Thor said to her, approaching her and laying a large hand on her shoulder. "You have answered my father's call, we are grateful to you for doing so. I have no doubt your own father would be proud."

Y/N nodded stiffly, not managing even a single word. 

The moment the crowd dispersed and the Princes had returned to their tent, Jörmungandr rounded on her. "You have some big explaining to do young lady."

"Keep your voice down," she hissed. 

"You lied to me," the snake sounded genuinely offended. "You made it sound like you didn't know how to fight."

Y/N rolled her eyes and made her way back to where Tallagor was still waiting. "I didn't lie, I merely chose to word it differently."

"Word it differently my tail," Jörmungandr snapped, "you said you only knew defensive magic and were good at archery, even a little hand-to-hand. But nothing like what I just saw! Which by the way, was the worst first impression you could ever make."

"Really?" She asked, looking down to where the snake glared up at her. "Their Highnesses seemed impressed."

"You know what I mean, the rest of the men now undoubtedly think you're a lunatic that goes looking for fights."

"You're exaggerating," Y/N replied, shaking her head. "At least I know they won't cross me in the future."

"You have heard of grudges haven't you?' Jörmungandr sniped. "I think three very scary men just developed one."

"Oh please," she muttered to herself and took Tallagor's reins. 

"You're making this whole 'gaining honour for the family' thing a lot more difficult than its supposed to be," Jörmungandr grumbled. "Starting fights with people that you don't know and are twice your size."

"They were the ones that started it," Y/N protested, leading Tallagor to the tent she was being shown too. 

"How very mature of you," Jörmungandr muttered, his tongue flicking out at her, narrowly missing her ear. 

Nodding in thanks to the stable-hand, she secured Tallagor to the tree that stood beside her tent. "Look, I made it this far, that has got to count for something right?"

Jörmungandr remained silent, glowering at her.  


"Fine," Y/N huffed, deftly sliding Jörmungandr from her shoulders and placing him on Tallagor's back. "Be like that. Sulk if you must." Without a second glance, she ducked into the tent and began to sort through her saddlebags. 

Unknown to the sulking serpent, a figure stood nearby, watching silently. 

Night came quickly and before she knew it, Y/N had dozed off. Only to be woken rather rudely by none other than Jörmungandr who was slapping the end of his tail across her nose. 

"Wakey wakey sleeping beauty."

"Go away," she grumbled, making to turn away. 

"Nah ah, none of that. You gotta get ready."

"Whatever for?"

Jörmungandr's eyes widened comically. "Whatever for? Have you no memory of what transpired yesterday? You're in the army now."  


Swearing under her breath, Y/N bolted upright, pulling on her training gear as fast as she could. She made to leave when Jörmungandr stopped her. 

"I could be wrong, but you may want to put the illusion back up."

Swearing for the second time, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Before long she felt the familiar tingle of magic cover her. Opening her eyes, she looked to the snake. "Better?"

"Much. Now off you go, otherwise you'll be late and make yet another excellent impression."

Sneering halfheartedly down at him, Y/N left the tent, forgetting her brother's sword in her mad dash. 

Running as fast as she could, she found her way to the training grounds and groaned when she saw that everyone was already there. The two Princes included. "Brilliant," she muttered to herself as she slowed down and discretely slotted herself into the line. 

Her arrival was not as subtle as she had hoped for and gained a few snickers from her attackers from the day before. 

Y/N swallowed nervously when she spotted Loki standing next to his brother and quickly looked away the moment she saw his attention move. She could only hope and pray that he would not be involved in their training. 

"Soldiers!" Prince Thor said, voice raised for everyone to hear. "You will assemble swiftly and silently, every morning. Anyone who does otherwise, will answer to me and my brother."

Cold dread ran its fingers along her spine at his words. She felt herself grow pale when a bow and arrow were presented to the prince, her eyes widening in shock when the Prince divested himself of his tunic, leaving his muscled chest bare. Feeling awkward, she directed her attention elsewhere, anywhere, and saw his brother roll his eyes in exasperation. 

"Show off," the blonde soldier from yesterday, Fandral, muttered under his breath. 

Upon releasing the arrow and watching it hit the top of a rather tall pillar in the middle of the training ground, Thor turned and smirked. "Thank you, Fandral. You are the first to get the arrow from the pillar." 

Y/N felt a strange sense of joy watching the blonde soldier squirm with embarrassment. _'Serves you right,'_ she thought and was alarmed to see Prince Loki smirking, as though he had heard her thoughts. 

"Of course, Your Highness," he replied smoothly and approached the pillar, making to climb it before Prince Thor stopped him. 

"Not so fast," the Prince said before turning to his brother, "Loki, if you please." 

Looking supremely bored, the younger Prince lazily waved his left hand, a chest materialising out of thin air.

Y/N found herself fascinated. While it had been nothing spectacular, the Prince's simple feat of magic captured her attention and aroused a sense of envy within her. 

Accepting the chest from his brother, Prince Thor opened it and drew two large weights from within it. "You will be needing these, one for discipline," he explained as he looped the weight's rope around Fandral's arm, which dropped heavily the moment Thor let go. "And this one for strength," he looped the second around Fandral's other arm. "Both of which you will need to retrieve the arrow."

Y/N watched with poorly disguised amusement as Fandral struggled to even make it a quarter of a way up the pillar before falling to the ground. Her amusement faded however, when she realised that this task was for everyone. "Oh dear," she murmured. This would be taking quite a while. 

"Come and fetch me when it has been retrieved," Prince Loki informed his brother. "Father is expecting reports and they will not write themselves."

Nodding absently, Prince Thor watched his troops with growing dismay. These men had fought before! Surely they had known what to expect? "How very disappointing," he said to himself as his men attempted time and again the tasks he set for them. 


	6. The myth's reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is the art of pretending to be normal. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

The starless night was still, not a breath of wind stirred the crowns of the trees. Nothing save for the wingbeats of a snow-white falcon as it swooped down to the beings that stood below.

Lifting an arm, Malekith waited for the bird to land before taking from its talons a doll. Finely made and well loved. Tossing the doll to the elf that stood beside him, he asked, "what do you see?"

The elf examined the doll closely before answering, "black pine," he murmured, "from the high mountains." In turn he tossed the doll to his compatriot who examined it further.

"White hair," he muttered thoughtfully.

"Aesir or animal?" Malekith demanded, letting the falcon fly.

"Animal," came the reply. "Horse, the Royal Cavalry to be precise."

Snarling under his breath, Malekith took the doll and passed it to another. "Do you see anything else?"

The dark elf nodded. "Oh yes. I smell sulphur from their cannons."

Humming thoughtfully, Malekith began to pace. He knew Asgard's geography well enough to know where the Aesir had most likely stationed that portion of their army. "That doll came from a village within Mimir's Pass," he announced. "That is where the Cavalry is most likely to be waiting."

"They can easily be avoided," an archer suggested, "we can skirt around them."

"No," Malekith shook his head, decision made. "The fastest and surest way to the Capital is through that pass."

~ ~ ~

"I think this is a terrible idea."

"You think all my ideas are terrible," Y/N replied, scowling at the serpent. "So what makes this one any different?"

"The very real fact that you may actually get caught," Jörmungandr pointed out from his perch on Tallagor's back. 

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "There is no way for them to know that it is me. I look completely different."

"That's not the point," Jörmungandr sighed. 

"My magic may allow me to look like a man," Y/N said as she let the illusion drop. "But that certainly doesn't mean that I have to smell like one too." The training tunic and leggings with the boots came next, all folded in a neat pile by the river bank. 

"We are right next to the camp," the snake protested. 

"Jörmungandr if you are so concerned," she said, dipping her toes in the water, cooled as the sun set. "You are more than welcome to stand guard and alert me should anyone come." 

Huffing and muttering to himself, Jörmungandr turned away as she slipped into the water, sighing as she came up. 

"Oh yes," Y/N murmured, relishing the feeling of fresh water against her skin after a week of not being able to wash properly. 

"Methinks that is long enough," Jörmungandr piped up only a minute after her head resurfaced. "You wouldn't want to get all wrinkly," he wheedled. 

Y/N however, was not listening. Her attention had been caught by a flash of something over by the opposing bank. Brushing wet strands away from her face, she cautiously swam her way over.

The cover of night had been his companion for quite some time now. So now, as the sun sunk below the horizon, Loki left the camp and made his way to where he had established the wards upon their arrival. 

That whole week had left him feeling uneasy. Something was not quite right within the camp. His seidr had picked up on the presence of another wielder, yet he could not determine who it was. Its constant presence and unfamiliar signature made it difficult for him to pinpoint whom it belonged to.

Coming to a halt, the Prince extended a hand and felt it brush against the ward. He smiled slightly, none would be able to cross the boundary without his knowing. Over that at least, he had control. 

With a small sigh, he summoned his daggers and illusions of a small number of Dökkálfar. The wards seemed in order and a bit of practice was never a bad thing. His illusions were designed to cause harm should he not perform well enough. He had designed them so that he would be able to draw blood before they disappeared. 

Hidden amongst the exposed roots of a weeping willow, Y/N watched with quiet fascination. She had seen the Prince summon his opponents out of thin air and watched now as he dispatched them with deadly efficiency. He was quick on his feet and as agile as any elf as he dodged attacks and fired back with volleys of his own. 

She did not know how long she stayed there, rendered immobile by the spectacle before her. She realised then, with shocking clarity, just how beautiful he really was. It was a terrifying beauty, one one would behold only moments before their death. A small gasp left her lips as her hand slipped from where it had been resting against one of the roots and splashed softly into the water.

She saw the moment the Prince dismissed the illusions and turned to the river. She did the only thing she could. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ducked under the water.

"There is really no use in hiding from me," Y/N heard his voice filter down through the water and prayed that he wouldn't come looking. She would hate to have been caught spying, on him of all people too.

When only silence answered him, Loki sighed. It was most likely no one at all, simply aquatic nightlife. But movement below the water soon caught his eye, a flash of colour caught by the moonlight. Small bubbles gently rippled the surface.

"I suggest you show yourself," he said to whomever, or whatever, was below the surface.

After a moment or two of silence, a face emerged from the water. Loki was well familiar with the stories of nymphs and dryads, yet he had never seen one. Until now. She was looking at him with fearful curiosity but said nothing.

"You need not fear me, little one," he said softly, moving to kneel on the river bank. "I mean you no harm."

She stared back at him, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Her hair was long and floated where it was still submerged. He could not quite tell it's colour.

"I have heard stories of your kind, _ármef,"_ he said kindly. "Though I have never thought to meet one."

She blinked up at him and inclined her head to the side. A shy smile played at her lips.

"You can understand me can you not?"

At this she nodded, her smile growing.

"Will you speak to me little one?" Loki asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Do you have a name?"

She nodded shyly. "Seren," she replied, her soft voice travelling like a breeze over the water.

"Seren," the Prince repeated softly to himself and returned her smile. "I am Loki."

A soft blush appeared on her cheeks as she smiled and nodded. "I know who you are," she said softly.

At this he chuckled and leaned forward slightly as he reached out a hand, with his palm facing the night sky, he summoned what appeared to be a star.

Fascinated, she swam closer and peered curiously at it before looking back to him for an explanation.

"It is what your name means does it not little one?" Loki asked, "star?"

She nodded and looked back to the star. "Beautiful," she murmured, raising a hand from the water and letting it hover near the star.

"Indeed," the Prince whispered, his gaze fixed on her. He knew that interactions with creatures such as her were frowned upon. They were seen as untrustworthy and deceitful. Much like he was.

She opened her mouth to reply when movement from the opposite bank startled them both. Quicker than he thought possible, she had ducked back under the water, no doubt to hide from the men that had jumped into the river.

"Seren?" Loki whispered her name, hoping she would hear him. Movement from the willow tree caught his eye and he smiled upon seeing her there. "Will I see you again?"

She nodded and offered him a soft smile before disappearing beneath the water.

Sighing, Loki stood and sneered in the direction of the men that were now cavorting about in the water. Slipping into the shadows, he made his way back to the camp.

"Where have you been?" Jörmungandr demanded as Y/N snuck back to where he waited with Tallagor. She was dripping wet and took the saddle blanket as a towel to cover herself. "It is a miracle they did not see you."

"All that matters is that they didn't," she retorted and summoned her clothes from where she had left them on the riverbank. 

"That still doesn't explain where you were," he hissed, his tongue flicking out at her as they made their way back to the camp. 

"What does it matter?" She asked irritably. With the camp in sight she let the illusion cover her once more. "I came back didn't I?"

"You're hiding something from me aren't you?" Jörmungandr asked as they came to halt by her tent. 

"What would I possibly have to hide from you?" Y/N rounded on him, hands on her hips. "You already know everything there is to know."

Jörmungandr narrowed his eyes at her. "Evidently not."  


Rolling her eyes, she secured Tallagor and brushed him down before marching off in the opposite direction to her tent. 

"Oh no you don't," Jörmungandr muttered to himself, sliding to the ground. Slithering after her, he deftly wound himself around her shoulders and met her gaze head on. "You are not getting away from this young lady."

Y/N snarled down at him but kept walking. 

"The more you stay silent the more I'll keep asking." 

Again, she stubbornly remained silent, not bothering to see just where she was headed. 

"You may want to stop walking," Jörmungandr whispered in her ear. "Look where we are."

Despite her sullen mood towards the serpent, Y/N stopped and turned around in a small circle. Her eyes widened upon seeing just which tent she stood before. 

"Thor I am telling you, they are not ready."

Y/N felt all the blood leave her face at the sound of that voice. Her heart stuttered within her and her silent breathing became a little ragged. 

"They won't last a minute against the Dökkálfar," Loki continued, sounding more than a little annoyed. 

"They are trained and experienced soldiers," Thor countered, "they have seen war before."

"Cool it girl," Jörmungandr muttered to her, sensing her changed demeanor. "Keep it under control. Remember what I told you."

Nodding stiffly, Y/N stared at the tent. She really should be going, she would hate to be caught eavesdropping.

"Yes," Loki sneered in response, "perhaps a millennia ago. But I have seen them Thor and once father reads my report, I am certain he will agree with me."

A short pause followed before Thor spoke, this time though his voice was softer. "But that is not all, is it brother? You are on edge."

Y/N held her breath and soon became convinced that they could hear her thundering heartbeat.

"We really should be going," Jörmungandr whispered to her and sighed with resignation when he saw her staring fixated at the tent. 

"Something isn't right Thor," Loki replied, "I am convinced that another in this camp is able to wield seidr, as I can."

"That's it," the snake hissed, "we are packing our bags and getting out of here. He has you figured out! Did you do something?"  


Y/N shook her head. "No," she whispered back. Her legs it seemed, had remembered how to move. 

"Who?" She heard Thor ask. Looking down at Jörmungandr, she bit her lip nervously.

"Unfortunately I do not know," came Loki's weary reply. "The signature is too unfamiliar and it's a constant presence, steady. It could be anyone of those oafs out there."

"Does it feel threatening?" Thor asked. 

"No."

"Well then, perhaps we ought not to worry about it," Thor suggested. "At least for the moment."

Loki merely hummed in response and exited the tent. 

Y/N froze mid escape. 

"What are you doing?" Jörmungandr demanded, "keep going or do you want him to see you?"

Before Y/N could shoot something back, Loki's voice rang out behind them. "Fintan is that you?"

Swallowing hard, Y/N turned and nodded. 

"Now you've done it," Jörmungandr muttered. "We're doomed."

"Your Highness," Y/N addressed him and bowed quickly. 

"What are you doing here?" Loki asked her, eyes narrowing. "It is rude to listen in on conversations, I am sure you know that."

"Oh your Highness," Y/N stammered, "I wasn't-, I was just walking my-" she cut herself off as she looked for a believable excuse. "My-"

"Your?" Loki asked, stalking up to her and rising to his full height. "I know when people are lying, especially to me, Fintan. So I suggest you choose your next words very carefully."

"My snake!" Y/N announced triumphantly, pulling Jörmungandr from where he was hiding in her armour. "I was walking my snake."

Loki eyed her as though she was not quite right in the upstairs department. "You were walking your snake?" He asked skeptically.

"Yep," she replied, nodding eagerly. "Yes I was."

"Does it have a name at the very least?"

"Jorgi," Y/N replied without an ounce of hesitation. "His name is Jorgi."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Prince sighed and dismissed her with a wave. 

Eager to get away, Y/N all but ran back to her tent, her heart hammering in her chest. 

"JORGI?!" The snake whisper-yelled at her. "Of all the names in the universe _that_ is the one you come up with?"

Y/N nodded and grinned. "I think it fits rather well."

"Well I hate it," Jörmungandr said, "I will not suffer you calling me that."

"Oh but you will," Y/N replied, smirking. _"Jorgi."_

"Don't you dare," he hissed. "Your behaviour tonight was bad enough."  


Y/N became indignant. "I was nervous okay. He knows about me, well not precisely me, but you know what I mean."

"You're just gonna have to be extra careful then," Jörmungandr replied as though it were the easiest thing in the universe. "Tone it down a bit yeah?"

"Easy for you to say," Y/N sniped back. " _Jorgi."_

"Call me that one more time," the snake said in a low tone, "I dare you."  


His words fell on deaf ears for she was already fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ármef = river nymph
> 
> Translated from Icelandic.


	7. Testing the waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

"Why can he not see that they are not ready?" Loki sighed wearily, letting one hand trail lazily in the water. 

Seren peered up at him through her lashes but remained silent.

"I do not understand it," he continued, "I do not. How can he not see that Malekith's forces will crush them before they even get a chance to lift their swords?"

Swimming closer, she hesitantly reached out a hand and let it hover indecisively over his own, letting water droplets fall on his hand before shaking her head and retracting it.

Looking down to her, he found himself smiling softly. An expression she shyly returned.

"I must thank you," he murmured and chuckled at her confusion. "I am but a stranger to you, and you to me. You had no obligation to come here tonight, but you did and I thank you for your company."

She merely nodded.

"You are quite the silent one," the Prince remarked thoughtfully. "Or perhaps more observant?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. A light tinting of colour dusted her cheeks.

"Is this your home?" Loki asked, "this river?"

She shrugged and nodded, making an unsure gesture with her hand.

"Sometimes?" He guessed.

Smiling widely, she nodded.

"You spoke with me before, so why not now?" Loki asked kindly.

"Shy," was the word she spoke, diverting her eyes to the water before her.

"Oh little one, there is no need to be," he assured her.

"You are a Prince," she replied softly, still not looking up. "And I am but a-"

"I know the tales of your kind little one," Loki said gently. "I know what you are. I know what the stories say your kind to be like." Pausing, he took a breath and his voice became just above a whisper. "I desire a friend, nothing more."

The hand that touched his face was cool and wet. Moonlit eyes met his, along with a gentle smile. _"Mellon."_

"That is elvish," Loki whispered, looking to her.

She nodded. "For friend," she explained softly. "My people have taken their language as our own."

"But you are no elf."

She shook her head. "But we are of the fae. Distant cousins." Making to retract her hand, she was surprised when he gently took hold of it.

"Friends?" He asked, returning her smile.

Seren nodded. She watched and gasped softly when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Friends," she agreed, her smile widening.

Loki watched in silence as her eyes remained trained on their joined hands. As though she could not quite believe what she was seeing.

"What of your family?" He asked, smiling as she turned his hand over, his palm facing the sky. "Do they live here too?"

She shook her head and pressed her hand to his, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

Loki made to ask for an explanation when he saw a faint rosy glow emanate from their joined hands. "What is that?" He asked, looking to her.

Drawing her hand away, she let him see.

A mark as iridescent as a pearl gleamed on his palm, the light of the moon allowing him to see it fully. It was beautiful, mysterious too. The Prince looked to her in confusion.

The shy smile returned as she held up her own hand, allowing him to see that she bore a mark as he did. _"Ithil taith,"_ she explained. "Moon mark. It is rarely given among my people."

Loki was fascinated. "Why?" He asked, tracing the intricate patterns that he now saw resembled a crescent moon.

"The light of the moon and stars is the purest," she replied, lifting her eyes up to where the pale orb hung amidst the scattering of stars. A faint smile danced at the edges of her lips. "Light from the moon now rests in your mark."

"And in yours?" Loki asked, his keen eyes noting how hers was different.

She shook her head. "I bear one that is different, yet the same." She angled her hand so that he could better see. There was no moon on her palm, but an arrangement of what he could only tell to be stars. _"Taith -o i elena,"_ she explained. "The mark of the stars. For where there is a moon, stars are also. This mark, the one you bare, is only given once in a lifetime."

"Then why give it to me?" Loki asked, confused. "Why not bestow it upon another?"

She shrugged. "I do not know," she whispered, lowering her hand.

"Your magic," he murmured, eyes narrowing in thought, "it carries a scent, does it not?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"I cannot name it," he continued, deep in thought. "It reminds me of my mother's roses, yet it is not a rose. It carried a hint of sweetness..." His words trailed into thoughtful silence.

As he thought to himself, she was at war with herself. She had already gone too far as it was. Yet she could not stop the word leaving her lips in a soft whisper. "Peonies."

The word drifted to him over the water and when he looked up, she was gone. She left not a trace.

~ ~ ~

"We have to think of something!"

"We?" Jörmungandr looked at her as though she were speaking a foreign language. "What do you mean _we?"_

Y/N sighed and slumped against her training bow. The weapon was twice her height and thicker than her forearm. "As in, you and me. If we don't think of something, we'll all be sent off back home before anything's even happened."  


"So now you want my help?" The serpent demanded, if snakes had eyebrows one would have been raised. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand up straight. 

"Listen," Jörmungandr said, slithering up the bow to look her in the eye. "After that stunt you pulled two nights ago, both Princes most likely think you're a bit of a wack job-"

"Wow," Y/N deadpanned, "thanks for the compliment."

"Let me finish," Jörmungandr huffed impatiently. 

"Please," she said, her voice monotone. "Do go on."

Flicking his tongue out at her, Jörmungandr continued. "Use that to your advantage."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, "now I'm the one thinking _you're_ the wack job. How could I possibly use something like that to work for me? If anything, they'll be keeping a closer eye on me."

"Precisely," the snake looked rather pleased with himself. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and changed her grip on the staff. "If you don't tell me right now what is going on in that little reptile head of yours, I will throw both you and this staff into the river."

"You wouldn't dare," he gasped. 

"Oh I would," she replied, smirking. "Now tell me."

As Jörmungandr detailed the plan out to her, she failed to notice the arrival of another. He watched in confused amusement as Fintan appeared to be listening to the silvery serpent that was wound around his training staff. His eyes were narrowed at the snake, in thought or threat, it was uncertain. 

"Hrókrson?"

Y/N whipped her head up to face the speaker and paled upon seeing who it was. "Your Highness," she stammered, bowing. 

Loki eyed the young man before him. His eyes wondered to where his hands had subtly tightened around the staff and to where the snake had now wound its way around his shoulders. "You are aware that the men have moved along to where the archery targets are, aren't you?"

Y/N felt her eyes widen a fraction. Oh no, she couldn't possibly go there. Instead, she nodded. "Yes your Highness."

"Then why do you linger here?"

"Because I-" she broke off, frantically looking for an excuse. "Because I-"  


"Don't know how to shoot?" Jörmungandr supplied, earning a glare from her. 

"What? No!" She hissed. 

"Fintan," Loki said, his voice dropping to a warning. 

Swallowing, she turned her attention back to the Prince. "I apologise, your Highness."

"If you have no suitable excuse, then I suggest you make your way over."

Nodding frantically, Y/N all but ran past him, almost stumbling in her haste to bow before actually leaving. 

Loki watched the rapidly retreating figure and sighed. The young man was an able fighter, even if he wasn't as well built as his fellow soldiers. He was quick on his feet and preferred the use of two blades instead of the traditional one. Loki had yet to see him with a bow and arrow and hoped that his aim at least was better than his sense of timing and direction. 

Y/N ran as fast as she could and hoped that she remembered where the targets were. 

"Turn right," Jörmungandr muttered in her ear and yelped when she swerved. "Nice going by the way. I would very much like to see how you're going to get out of this one."

"This all your fault," she hissed as they neared the archery field where the rest of the men were lined up. 

"My fault?" The snake exclaimed, "just how is this my fault? I was not the one who made herself look like a fool in front of the Prince."

"Yeah? Because of you."

"Oh no no, don't you turn this on me," Jörmungandr shot back. "You were fumbling for an excuse like you had forgotten how to speak."

"Have you forgotten what'll happen should he find out?" Y/N demanded, lowering her voice as they got closer to the field. 

"Have you?" Jörmungandr sniped. 

Y/N opened her mouth to shoot something back when Prince Thor caught sight of her and smiled broadly. "Hrókrson. There you are."

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded. The way he said her perceived last name was so different to his brother. "I apologise for my tardiness your Highness."

"As well you should," the red-bearded one, Volstagg, muttered under his breath. 

Y/N glared at him but never got the chance to reply, for the next thing she knew, a bow and a quiver of arrows had been thrust into her hands. 

"We are so doomed," Jörmungandr groaned as she shouldered the quiver. 

"You will be the first," Prince Thor said to her. "You will aim for the centre of that target there," as he spoke, he pointed to target ten feet from where they stood. 

In any other normal situation, Y/N would have laughed and nocked an arrow to the bow. Ten feet was nothing. But now, all she could feel was dread and the distinct feeling of being watched.

"Don't you dare hit the centre," Jörmungandr warned her. "You'll be done for if you do."

Clenching her jaw, Y/N took a series of deep breaths before taking an arrow from the quiver and nocking it to the bow. Amidst the jeers and patronising remarks of her compatriots, Y/N narrowed her eyes and focused. 

"For once in our short friendship, will you listen to me and miss?" Jörmungandr whispered urgently to her. 

The colours of the target came into sharp focus for her as she aimed the tip of the arrow and let it fly. When it hit a fair distance from the centre, she sighed with relief. 

Thor approached her from the sidelines, "it seems we shall need to work on your aim," he said good-naturedly and made to take the bow and quiver from her when another voice cut in. 

"Let him try again," Loki suggested, sidling up to the group and looking down at her. "The first shot is never the best."

Thor appeared to take his brother's words into consideration. 

"Move the target further back," Loki suggested before Thor could say anything. "Some fare better at a distance."

Y/N began to well and truly panic. She could feel the Prince watching her and Jörmungandr quivering against her. She watched with increasing fear as the target was moved further and further back, only stopping when Loki held up a hand. 

"If you make this shot," Jörmungandr warned her, "I will strangle you and make it look like an accident."

"I have to make it," she whispered back, the tremor in her voice betraying her nerves. "He's watching me."

"That's precisely why you shouldn't," Jörmungandr hissed. "Something you've done has made him suspicious. If you miss, he'll most likely back off and we'll be all good again."

Nodding, Y/N drew an arrow and readied herself. The target had been moved so far she could only just make out the colours. 

"No one could make that," she heard Fandral murmur behind her. "The Prince is mocking us."

_'Oh no,'_ Y/N thought to herself, _'he's not mocking, he's testing.'_

"Fire at will," Thor's voice called to her, shaking her from her panicked thoughts.  


_ 'And I have to fail,' _ she thoughts as she raised the bow and arrow and narrowed her eyes in focus. The centre was clear to her. Her pride told her to hit the mark, while Jörmungandr's very real voice had warned her not to. 

Taking a deep breath, she positioned the weapon and upon releasing her breath, she released the arrow too. 


	8. The scent of fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you did it all again, would you do it differently? Perfect, now do it differently. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

It was as though the whole realm held its breath as the arrow flew, propelled from the bow. Y/N dared not even blink. She did not lower her arms, nor relax her posture.

A faint startled cry shook her from her trance and brought her crashing back to reality. The cry, it was soon discovered, had come from a stablehand who happened to be passing a little too close to the training fields. Her arrow it seemed, not only missed the target entirely, but had lodged itself into the boy's calf.

Despite the overwhelming relief that threatened to send her knees buckling, Y/N could feel the scrutinising gaze of the younger Prince burning holes into the side of her head. She dared not turn to look, for fear of making a fool of herself.

"Well," he drawled, approaching her in long, almost lazy strides. "It appears that your aim leaves much left to be desired," the snickers behind her were silenced by one look from him before he continued. "It seems you will need further training in this particular area. Do you not agree brother?" He said, turning in his brother's direction.

Thor looked between his brother and the young man with mild concern. He had ensured that the healers saw to the boy right away. "Yes," he agreed, "I believe so. I will see to it personally."

At this, Loki held up a hand and shook his head. "There is no need, I will handle it."

Y/N was sure her eyes were the size of a full moon. This turn of events was looking to be worse than if she had hit the target.

"After all," Loki continued, a smirk curving his thin lips. "Your aim is not particularly stellar either, brother dearest."

A hushed silence fell over the gathering as Thor narrowed his eyes at his younger sibling, the sky rumbling in response.

"I don't mind. I'm not picky," Y/N piped up and immediately regretted her words as both Princes and the rest of the men glared at her.

"Way to keep it subtle," Jörmungandr muttered, his forked tongue lightly brushing her neck, making her squirm. 

"But I'll leave the decision to you both," she said in a smaller voice, earning a muted groan from the snake. 

"When will you learn that you don't always have to say something?" He hissed. 

"Come with me," Loki instructed after what felt like a millennia, "and bring that bow and quiver."

Y/N found she had little choice but to scramble after him with Jörmungandr listing all the worst-case scenarios as they left the archery field behind. 

Where they ended up was indeed far from the camp, on the crest of a hill overlooking the entire array. 

"It is evident that you know how to handle the weapon," Loki said, bringing her focus back to him. "It is merely your aim that requires a touch of finesse. Something I doubt my dear brother would be able to provide."

Y/N stayed silent. The hand that held the bow was clenched tight and the blood rushed in her ears. 

"You are tense," he commented, eyes looking pointedly down at her clenched hand. "Don't be." 

_ 'Easier said than done,' _ Y/N thought to herself and forced her clenched jaw to slacken and her grip to loosen a fraction. 

"Your posture," Loki said, coming to circle behind her. "It is much too stiff. Do not bunch your shoulders so. It is unbecoming for someone of your build."

Y/N was sure she would have stared at him in pure shock. Luckily for her, he could not see her face. 

"Better," he murmured as she relaxed her shoulders. "Now ready your bow and select an arrow."

Fighting to keep the shaking in her hands to a minimum, Y/N did as instructed and held the readied weapon as before. "Where shall I aim, Your Highness?" 

"That tree will do," he commented, coming to stand at her side, pointing to a tree not five feet from them. "That knot to the left of the trunk."

Y/N made to release the arrow when he stopped her. 

"Stop. Look at me."

Lowering the loaded bow, she reluctantly turned to him. "Your Highness." Her gaze went directly to the grass at her feet.

"I said _look at me_." 

Licking her dry lips and swallowing, she lifted her eyes to meet his emerald ones. 

"Better. Now, your grip on the bow itself, not to mention the arrow, was much too tight."

"What would you suggest Your Highness?" 

Chuckling, Loki stepped closer and took the bow from her. "Watch," was all he said. Lifting the weapon into the correct position, he narrowed his eyes in focus. 

Y/N watched in breathless silence. Her gaze travelled the entirety of him. He was so different from his brother, strong in ways he was not. Every movement of his spoke of effortless grace that came from years of training. The angle of the mid afternoon sun cast shadows across his angular features and a soft breeze blew past them, toying briefly with the ebony strands of his hair, causing them to brush gently along his jawline. 

"Stop staring," Jörmungandr hissed in her ear, making her jump. "Your jaw is practically unhinged."

Glaring at the serpent, Y/N quickly refocused and watched as Loki released the arrow, not towards the tree as she had half expected, but towards the camp below them. Her keen eyes saw the arrow lodge itself snugly in the ground just in front of a startled Fandral. Stifling a snort, she schooled her features as the Prince turned back to her. 

"There is no such thing as having perfect aim," he said, extending his arm out, offering the bow back to her. "So I will not have you strive for the unattainable. You must have excellent aim."

Y/N found herself nodding in time to his words. 

"Stop that," Jörmungandr whispered, "you look ridiculous."

Her eye twitched with the effort it took to restrain herself from shooting back a remark. 

"Everything alright Hrókrson?" Loki asked, canting his head slightly to side. 

Y/N immediately nodded. "Yes Your Highness."

His eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded. "Very well, try again. Remember my words. Breathe, focus. Now, I want you to aim for that knot I indicated earlier."

Taking a series of deep breaths, she lifted the bow and let her eyes zero in on the target. 

"Release when ready."

Taking a breath, she released it along with the arrow and forced herself not to smile when the arrow lodged itself into the centre of the knot. When she dared to look away, she was startled to find the Prince smiling as well. 

"I do believe I know what impeded you from making the shot before the men," he remarked, summoning the arrow back with his seidr. 

"Oh?" Y/N asked, unable to think of any other word. 

"You had an audience," he said simply. "You were selected to go first. Not exactly good for the nerves where precision is required."

"Indeed, Your Highness," she murmured, hands fidgeting with the bow. 

"Now," he said, passing the arrow to her. "I wonder if you are ready for something a little further away."

"Oh no," Jörmungandr whimpered. "This can't be good. His eyes are sparkling, but not in a good way."

Had she been anywhere else, Y/N would have laughed at the absurdity of the snake's words. Now, she was decidedly not laughing. There was nothing even faintly amusing about her current situation. 

"Yes," the Prince finally announced, "over there will do."

Cold panic froze the blood in her veins as her eyes followed to where he pointed. It was another tree, but this one bore an acorn and stood a little farther off. It hung from one of it lower branches but still smaller than the target she had just hit. 

"Yep, not good," Jörmungandr chanted in her ear. "Not good at all."

"Your Highness," she stammered, "I'm not sure I will be able to-"

"I am," Loki said, cutting her panicked words off short. "Now remember what I taught you. Let the world fall away, let your target be the only thing you see."

Swallowing hard, she nocked the arrow to the bow and settled it near her eyeline. 

"Miss," Jörmungandr begged her. "I am beseeching you to miss."

"Release when ready."

Willing her racing heart to calm, Y/N took a breath and let the arrow fly upon breathing out. 

The acorn fell from the tree, her arrow through it. 

"Much better," the Prince praised softly, his tone thoughtful. 

"Your Highness, I-"

Holding up a hand, Loki stopped her. "One more for today."

Nodding in defeat, she waited with baited breath for him to select a target. 

"Over there," he announced his decision not a minute later.

Y/N followed to where he indicated and felt raw fear rush through her. If she had been worried about the acorn, then she was in a full blown panic now. Her intended target was none other than the wooden pillar in which Thor's arrow was still lodged.

"Your Highness are you certain-?"

Loki merely nodded.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N fixed an arrow to the bow and forced herself into a state of calm. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she only reopened them once her heart had calmed somewhat.

Narrowing her eyes to better focus, she unwittingly twisted the bow to be at a slight angle.

"What are you doing?" Jörmungandr demanded, the panic in his voice practically visible. "Don't hold it like that." 

Y/N did not hear him as she released the arrow and watched it fly through the air to meet its target. Not only did the tip bury into the wood of the pillar, but it also neatly split the existing arrow right down the middle. 

"Excellent," she heard the Prince murmur behind her. 

Then, he was behind her, chest brushing her back as he reached around taking the bow from her. Y/N felt his warm breath fan delicately down what was exposed of her neck. "Hmmm," he hummed before stepping away. "Peonies," he whispered, causing her head to turn, e/c eyes finding his. 

Y/N stood frozen as the Prince sauntered away from her. 

Not even Jörmungandr could think of anything to say. He merely stared at her for a long moment before slithering down and away from her, leaving her there. 


	9. Your eyes are a crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was so flawed, so perfectly flawed so perfectly flawed for me. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

"Just where do you think you're going?"

Jörmungandr froze and sighed before slumping into a heap. "I cannot do it mistress," he said, sounding more than a little defeated.

"Cannot do what?" The voice asked.

"Must I really say it mistress?" The snake whined.

The air before him began to shift as a form began to take shape. "Oh Jörmungandr," Varda sighed, now fully formed and frowning down at the serpent. 

"It's turning out to be a lot harder than I thought."

Saying nothing, Varda leaned down and extended an arm, wordlessly inviting Jörmungandr to curl around it. Then, drawing him to her, she began to pace. "But you chose this, you brought this upon yourself."

Jörmungandr tilted his head up to better look at her. "Believe me mistress, I have never regretted anything more."  


"It is a little late for regret now I'm afraid," she replied, "you must return to her."

"I can't possibly do that," he protested, "if the Prince knows of her deception then there is most likely nothing left of her for me to return to."

"Don't exaggerate," she scolded him. 

"I'm not," Jörmungandr insisted. "We have both witnessed what he's capable of, especially when provoked or slighted."

Varda sighed. "He will not harm her," she said softly, her star-like eyes thoughtful. 

"How can you be so sure?" Jörmungandr grumbled, laying his head against the back of her hand. "She deceived _the_ deceiver, lied to _the_ liar. Somehow I can't imagine him letting her off with a warning."

"She is too valuable," the Star Queen murmured. "Her abilities he will find too useful for him to dispose of her."

"Is that meant to be comforting?" 

"It is not meant to be anything. Simply a statement of fact," she replied and lifted her arm that bore him. "When I set you down, you will go back to her."

"Must I?" Jörmungandr asked, his voice pitching into a petulant whine. 

"Yes, you must and you will. She needs you."

"She didn't seem to need me at all lately," the snake muttered. "Who knows what she did to arouse his suspicion. Clearly more than her illusion."

"She gave him the _ithil taith,"_ Varda replied, earning a shocked hiss from the snake wound around her wrist and forearm. 

"She _what?"_ Jörmungandr exclaimed. _"Nan Aear a Geil!"_ He swore. "Why would she do something like that? And more importantly, _when_ did she do this? She's too scared of him to even look at him."

"Perhaps with you," Varda murmured, "but I do believe that you were not exempt from her illusions."

Jörmungandr narrowed his eyes, "what are you implying mistress?"  


"You know exactly," Varda replied softly. 

"She lied to me?" The snake whispered, betrayal seeping into his voice, making it quiver. "We may not always see eye-to-eye, but I did not think her capable of that."

"She is more at ease with him than you know," Varda continued. 

"All those times she disappeared," Jörmungandr murmured to himself, "she was with him?" 

The Star Queen nodded solemnly. "She wore her true face, yet it became only another mask for her."

Jörmungandr groaned. "She has dug herself quite the grave."  


"I bid you return to her Jörmungandr," Varda said to him. "She is alone now. Alone and frightened. Go to her. Help her."

~ ~ ~ 

All she could do was run. 

Her panicked mind would allow her to do little else. Her heart raced and pounded painfully in her chest. Every breath she took tore harshly from within her as she ran. 

Waiting until Loki had faded completely from her sight, she turned and raced down the small hill. She made certain to skirt around the camp, not wishing to draw any more unwanted attention. 

_ He knows.  _ Those two words haunted her as she ran. They ran in loops, refusing to grant her even a moment of peace. _He knows._ Not for the first time was she reminded that this was entirely her own fault. If she had not overstepped the boundaries that she herself had set, he would have been none the wiser.  


Coming to the river that formed a natural border for the camp, she chanced one look over her shoulder, e/c eyes darting fearfully from side to side. 

_'Run,'_ her mind urged her, _'run before he finds you.'_

Turning back to the river, she dove in, clothes and all. The icy water made her gasp as she came up for air. Fighting through the chill, she swam and did not stop until she reached the opposing bank. Clambering out as best she could with dripping clothes, Y/N pulled herself onto the bank with a rather undignified grunt and pushed herself to her feet.  


The adrenaline running rampant through her system prevented the cold from sinking in. The wind caused by her passing froze the water on her skin. Casting a desperate glance to the sky, she saw that the sun was hanging dangerously close to the horizon. It would be dark soon, dark in an area she was unfamiliar with. 

"You would do well not to run from me."

She skidded to a halt and spun around, stumbling as she did so. 

He emerged from the gathering shadows. His moss green eyes seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun as he regarded her. Slowly, with the measured steps of a predator, he approached her. 

On instinct she stepped back and continued to do so with every step he took towards her. Her heart was in her throat, making it almost impossible for her to speak. 

"Drop it," he said softly, eyes meeting hers, daring her to look away. 

"I'm certain I don't know what you mean," she whispered in a trembling voice, her legs continuing to take her backwards. 

"As certain as I am that you know better than to lie to me," he replied smoothly. "Though, no more than you already have."

Stuttered uneven breaths passed her lips as she swallowed hard. 

"Let it go," he commanded, eyes hardening. 

Stubbornly she shook her head and gasped softly when she felt something vaguely solid press against her back. Reaching her hands back, a faint tingling answered her and yet she was unable to move any further. 

Loki watched the confusion chase the fear from her eyes. 

Unwittingly, she looked to where the Prince stood silently watching her. 

"Wards," he explained simply and folded his hands. 

The fear returned as he advanced on her once again and only stopped once he was a hair's breath from her. 

The tingle at her back was slowly becoming painful and Y/N fought to keep a neutral expression. 

"It was you, wasn't?" Loki said softly, his breath fanning over her lips. "The source of my constant unease. The unknown wielder."

She swallowed hard and tried to look away, but a pale fine-boned hand appeared and held her chin in place. 

"Show me."

Whimpering against the growing pain at her back, she shook her head. 

"The pain will only grow," Loki promised her, "I have never felt it myself, but I have heard that it can become nigh on unbearable."

His words rang true as it became harder to maintain the illusion. Y/N soon felt it begin to slip through her grasp and scrambled to try and secure it. The pain began to climb to her head, radiating strongly through her entire body. 

Loki said nothing as he watched her struggle. Her tightly clenched teeth and the stubborn glint in her eye betrayed more than she undoubtedly knew. The pain was building, that much was obvious, it was only a matter of time now. 

Then, a bolt of pain so intense lanced through her head that she was forced to her knees with a small cry. She was only faintly aware of the illusion crumbling to dust around her. 

"Seren?" Loki whispered, not quite believing what he was seeing. 

Y/N said nothing, even as she felt him forcibly lift her chin to direct her gaze to his. 

"Is that your true name?" He asked, "or was that yet another lie?"

Her silence answered him as surely as her words would have. 

"Men have been executed for less," he hissed, letting go and stepping back. "You would dare to try and deceive me?" 

Finally gathering the courage to look up, Y/N felt a soft breeze toy with her hair, thus revealing her true nature to the infuriated Prince.

"You are an elf?" He whispered, keen eyes latching onto the sight the breeze had revealed. 

She nodded wordlessly. 

"The words you spoke to me," he said, "by the river..."

"I meant every word," she said at last. 

"You speak as though you expect me to believe you," Loki snarled. "I do not know you."

Pushing herself to stand on trembling legs, Y/N took a deep breath but remained silent. 

"What is your real name? Truly, I do not know why I care to ask, perhaps because I desire a fragment of truth in the face of all your lies."

Y/N swallowed painfully. He was right. Of course he was. She had done nothing but lie to those that had come to trust her. She did not dare meet his eyes. "Y/N," she whispered, "Y/N Hrókrdóttir."

"Y/N," the Prince repeated softly to himself. "A name too beautiful to belong to a liar."

She said nothing in the face of the murmured words. She was certain she was not meant to have heard them. 

"Show me your hand."  It was not a request but a demand and one she was helpless to fight as he took her right hand and pulled it towards him, causing her to stumble. Without warning, he tore the scrap of fabric covering her palm and tossed it carelessly to the ground.

Y/N watched it flutter uselessly away from them, anything to distract her. 

"Unbelievable," he breathed upon seeing the mark. There it was, in the same place as his, glinting like the stars that shone above them now that the sun had set. The moon was full and turned all that its light touched into silvery white. 

Y/N felt her hand give an involuntary twitch as he hesitantly traced the pattern, as though mesmerised. 

"Look at me."

The words were soft and light enough to be carried away by the breeze that passed through. Steeling herself, Y/N looked up and met his gaze. 

There they were, those moonlit eyes that he had come to know so well. They were as wide as they had been when he had first beheld them. Only now, there was no curiosity. Only fear of what he would do next. 

"You fear me?" He asked, letting her hand drop.

She nodded wordlessly.

"Good," he said after a short pause. "Then perhaps that will help to keep you in line and to remind you of who is keeping your secret."

"You are allowing me to stay?" She asked quietly, hardly believing this turn of events.

"Only because you have sufficient skill to aid this cause," he replied. "Now go. Return to your tent and report for training in the morning." He watched as Y/N silently slipped past him, covering herself with the illusion once more. An uneven breath escaped his lips, along with a single tear, turned silver by the moon. The lie tore at his carefully guarded heart and had him raise his welling eyes to the stars. The stars that shone in a mirror image on her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ithil taith = Moon mark.  
> Nan Aear a Geil! = By the Sea and Stars!


	10. Nobody knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

The unease did not fade. Not as he had expected it too. Wished it, even. Nor did it grow. It merely stayed, prolonged by her presence. They had not spoken, much less made eye contact in the days that followed. The nights once spent by the banks of a moonlit river, were now spent in their respective tents.

The gentle hum of her seidr greeted him when he woke, an entire week after the incident. The day began like any other and he was determined to add the finishing and deciding details to the reports that would be sent back to the capital.

Upon leaving his tent, Loki had every intention of making his way to the tent where he would meet with Thor. His stubborn oaf of a brother still couldn't see. Yes, Loki admitted reluctantly to himself, the men had improved, but only a little for what was needed to face Malekith head-on.

A gentle breeze blew, drifting its way through the camp. It was a cold one, heralding the beginning of Asgard's cooler months.

"Brother!" Thor's booming voice called to him as the older Prince approached him.

Loki merely nodded in response and raised an expectant eyebrow.

"I do believe you will want to see this," Thor remarked, smiling widely and slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Will I now?" Loki muttered and allowed Thor to lead him to where the men had gathered.

The men stood to attention before the very pillar that bore the pierced arrow. By some miracle both arrows remained lodged firmly in the wood.

Unimpressed, Loki turned to Thor. "What is this marvel you wished for me to see? The arrow is still there and the men stand staring at it."

"Not for much longer," Thor whispered, there was a strange glimmer to his eyes. "Look at the pillar again brother."

Sighing irritably, Loki did as suggested and inhaled sharply. A figure was making their way steadily up the smooth surface. Hands firmly gripping the wood as their legs squeezed and rhythmically released the wood in order for them to move upwards. Even from where he stood, Loki could see the sheen of sweat mark their training uniform and plaster their hair to their forehead. "Hrókrson?" He whispered in clear disbelief.

"Indeed," Thor chuckled, "it seems that young Fintan has been training. Would you believe it that he volunteered?"

Loki said nothing as he watched. She had been training? When had she done this and where? Had she dropped the illusion throughout it? Loki narrowed his eyes as he looked closer.

The group of gathered men held their breath as she passed the halfway mark. For it was further than any other had thus far gone.

Digging her nails into the wood, Y/N could feel her legs shaking as the muscles tightened to grip the pillar. The sun felt hotter than usual that day and the sweat stung her eyes, yet she did not dare to even try to wipe it away. It was a long way down and she had never been too fond of heights. Directing her gaze up, she saw the two arrows, her own and the one from the Prince's bow.

The memory of that day threatened to break her focus as she continued to climb closer to her goal. Her hands trembled as she moved them along the wood. She was so close.

"I do believe he will be the first," Thor said to his brother with admiration clear in his blue eyes.

"But what of the rest?" Loki replied. "It will not do to have simply one man who is capable."

Silence fell over the two Princes as they continued to watch her.

Jörmungandr had yet to return to her. Y/N had not seen him since that afternoon when he had left her standing there. She found, with an emotion that bordered on bittersweet, that she did indeed miss the serpent and his remarks that would often drive her to near madness. The quiet left by his absence was strange and rather unsettling. It left her wondering just where he had gone and if he was ever coming back.

Shaking her head to refocus, Y/N gasped softly upon looking up. Just a little bit further to go. The arrows were almost within reaching distance. "Come on," she muttered to herself. "Almost there."

With violently quivering thigh and calf muscles, she pulled herself up the last short portion of the pillar that was left. Her arms shook as she used them to haul herself to the top of the pillar, pulling the arrows out as she all but collapsed on the small flat surface at the top of the pillar.

Soon sounds of clapping and the roars of her audience greeted her ears and reminded her that she had been watched. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and braved a look down. All were clapping and cheering, even the three she had angered on her arrival. All save for one.

From her vantage point she could see him clearly. His arms were folded and his chin lifted. Y/N felt a lump form in her throat and soon struggled to swallow past it. Her heart beat rapidly within her, making the blood rush in her ears.

She had done it. Loki could hardly believe it. He watched as her legs gave way beneath her the moment she had retrieved the arrows. He saw the moment she looked to him. Her e/c eyes sweeping over the crowd until they found him. _'Well done,'_ he directed his thoughts to her, though he doubted that she would hear them, a faint tinge of pride coloured the words.

"Good," was he said aloud before turning on his heels and sweeping from the training grounds.

Thor watched his brother go with a bemused smile before turning back to the pillar where a clearly exhausted Fintan was making his way down the pillar, the two arrows clutched firmly in a trembling hand.

Fighting not to collapse the moment her feet touched the ground, Y/N was startled when a hand landed solidly on her shoulder. Looking up, she met the smiling face of Prince Thor.

"You have performed well young Hrókrson," the Prince complemented her. He took the arrows from her and clapped her on the back, nearly sending her sprawling.

"Thank you, your Highness," she murmured in reply, her eyes drifting from him to the crowd behind him. He was gone, she swore he had been there.

"Who do you search for?" Thor asked, seeing her wandering eyes.

"No one," she whispered. "Your Highness."

"Very well," Thor said, "you have earned your rest. Go to the river, refresh yourself."

Not managing any words, Y/N nodded and stumbled away from the crowd. On quivering legs, she found her way to the river bank and sank gratefully to her knees.

He had been there, she knew he had. She had seen him. Had he come, hoping to see her fail? To hold yet another thing above her? It was the first she had seen of him since the discovery.

Sighing, she rocked back and pulled off her boots, letting her feet submerge in the cool water.

"Quite the accomplishment."

Starting at the voice, Y/N attempted to stand, failing miserably in the process. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. "Your Highness," she stammered upon seeing him emerge from the reeds.

"My brother tells me that you trained yourself for this day?"

Y/N barely managed a nod. "Yes," she said softly.

"I would prefer it if you did not wear it when we are alone."

His words startled and confused her. "Your Highness?"

"The illusion," Loki explained, a note of irritation in his voice. "You will wear your true face when it is you and I."

Sighing in defeat, Y/N felt the familiar tingle wash over her before looking back to her companion. "May I ask why?" She asked timidly.

"You may," he replied, regarding her. "But I am under no obligation to answer."

Nodding, she looked down, twisting her hands together nervously.

"It is evident that you know how to wield seidr in order to conceal, but tell me," Loki said to her, reaching out to lift her chin. Their eyes meeting. "Do you know any of its defensive uses? Offensive too perhaps?"

Y/N blinked at him. After a week of not speaking, he was asking this of her? By the Valar he confused her. "A little," she admitted. "But not of the caliber you desire."

"That is for me to judge," Loki replied. "Now, know you how to erect a shield?"

After a moment Y/N nodded.

"That is something at least," the Prince muttered.

"Why are you asking this of me, Your Highness?" Y/N asked, biting her bottom lip and canting her head to the side.

"It is all very well, your skill with the blade," Loki replied. "Even with the little hand-to-hand I have seen. However, it is time for you to learn how to weaponise the gifts given to you. Tell me, have you ever felt the need for offensive magic, or perhaps defensive?"

Y/N shook her head. "No Sire. I cannot say that I have."

"Of course," he murmured, seconds before his right arm lashed out, sending a bolt of emerald energy her way.

Panicking, Y/N did the only thing she could. Throwing her hands up with palms facing out, she flung up the only shield spell she knew and prayed it would work.

Loki watched in fascination as her magic deflected his, causing it to erupt in a small shower of sparks. Her reflexes were sharp, but they could be made sharper still.

Lowering her shaking hands, Y/N dared to look at him and was taken aback by the unguarded look in his moss-green eyes. But then, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Your instincts are sharp," the Prince commented. "But they are still in need of amendment. The skills I will teach you will require a quick mind and equally quick movements."

She was dumbfounded. "You wish to teach me?" She whispered, shocked. "Why?"

"Your secret, as distasteful as it is," Loki replied, folding his arms, "must be used to its fullest advantage. The mystic gifts of your race, as well as the physical traits, will help greatly."

"You will not tell them?' She asked, her twisting hands folding together.

"Not yet," he said, "not until you have outlived your usefulness."

Y/N nodded wordlessly. She ought to have been grateful for his discretion but in its place was a faint stab of hurt. He was using her for what she was and what she could do.

"First lesson," he called over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Catch me off guard."

Y/N stared after him as he melted into the shadows, the faint sounds of his laughter echoing out across the river.


	11. The world of illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trickle of silvery moonlight ran down her cheek. 'We all drown a little,' she whispered, 'that's how we learn to swim.'
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

In all honesty, Jörmungandr did not have slightest clue of where he was. Being the size he was didn't help matters either. It all looked the same from where he was. He had not been thinking of his surroundings when he had made his attempted escape. 

"She could have at least dropped me by the camp," he muttered to himself as he slithered around yet another log. He was losing count, "or maybe I'm lost," he thought out loud. They all looked the same to him. 

Varda, it seemed, was intent on teaching him a lesson. What lesson that was, Jörmungandr had no idea. Though he suspected, with a sinking feeling, that it just might have something to do with commitment. After his little rant about practically giving up on Y/N, it had to be that. 

What was Y/N up to anyway? Assuming that was, if the Prince had spared her life. Had she stayed? Had she taken Tallagor the first chance she got and fled? Though knowing her sense of direction as well as he did, Jörmungandr knew that she wouldn't get all that far. Her lack of self preservation had astounded him, especially after learning of what she had done from Varda. 

"Reckless doesn't even begin to cover it," he said to the night air. "I doubt the word subtle is even in her vocabulary."

His nightly surrounds gave nothing in the way of a reply. 

"I suppose I should have been proud of her," he continued, "for lasting as long as she did. Her magic is nowhere near as strong as his, goodness-knows what he'll do to bring the illusion down." The snake shuddered at the thought and sent a silent prayer to Varda to make it quick for Y/N. But even as he thought those words, Varda's own came back to haunt him. 

_ "He will not harm her." _

"I sincerely hope you are right mistress," he murmured.  


Lapsing into silence, he slithered along the cold ground. It was nighttime, had been for a little while and any chance of looking for recognisable landmarks had gone with the sun. Unless he could find the river that bordered the camp. 

"Easier said than done Jörmungandr," he scolded himself and then huffed, hating how that seemed to be only option. "I bet there are many rivers around here, where ever here is."

Sound became what he soon relied on. Listening for the telltale sounds of running water became a full-time occupation. 

_ Her focus had over taken her as she angled the bow the way her kind always did. Jörmungandr shouldn't have been all that surprised that her arrow hit its mark.  _

"You all but told him what you were," he whispered. "You-" his next words were cut off by a series of distant sounds. Sounds made by more than one person. Curious, he moved in the direction of the indistinct voices.  


As the voices and sounds grew louder, he felt any blood in his head drain away. Swallowing hard, he slithered up the nearest tree, too preoccupied to see the river right beside him. 

What he saw was a scene he had imagined countless times since the discovery, in all different kinds of ways. 

The Prince and Y/N were locked in what appeared to be a bout of physical combat. The sharpness of their blades winking in the moonlight. The way they moved reminded him of the more vicious breeds of his race. Both held two blades and struck out at each other with calculated precision. 

Casting his eyes up to the star-strewn sky, Jörmungandr sighed. "Do you see this mistress? Do you see the meaning of my words now?" 

As deadly as it was, Jörmungandr soon found himself fascinated. He had seen Y/N fight before, but not like this. She had been quick, yes. But now, he blinked and she had moved. No warnings were given to either of their attacks. They dodged and parried. Struck and deflected. 

Jörmungandr barely managed to restrain a groan when Y/N tripped and stumbled, thus giving the Prince the advantage. He watched breathlessly, and was more than a little terrified as one of the Prince's blades rested against her throat, the other at her heart.  


Any moment now. Any minute and she would fall lifelessly to the ground, her blood on the blades he held. 

No such moment came. 

"Better," came the Prince's voice, but not from the scene. But from the shadows. "Considering your mistake and momentary loss of focus."

"I apologise Sire," Y/N's voice replied. "I do not know what happened."

Jörmungandr swore that in that moment, his jaw unhinged. The pair of them stepped into the clearing, not having broken even a bead of sweat. It quickly became clear to him that he had been watching their doubles fight.  


"I care not what caused it," the Prince dismissed, "only, do not let it happen again. Your clones must be convincing and that requires focus."

"Yes Sire," she murmured, dismissing her double with a small gesture of her left hand. 

Jörmungandr blinked rapidly as he struggled to take in what he was seeing and hearing. He was _teaching_ her? How in the Nine had that happened? Moreover, why was she not wearing the illusion around him?  


"You have yet to complete your first lesson."

"I know," she sighed, looking down. "It is not quite so easy."

"First," the Prince said, stepping toward her and lifting her chin. "You will look at me when speaking with me. And second, if it were easy, I would not have asked it of you."

"You have that much faith in me Sire?" She asked softly. 

The Prince scoffed and shook his head. "Faith has nothing to do with it. I know you to have reasonable ability to complete the tasks I set for you-" his words trailed into silence as a blade appeared at his throat. His eyes did not widen, nor did his posture change. Instead, he smiled. 

Jörmungandr watched as Y/N's form faded from where she had been standing before the Prince and how she was suddenly behind him. For it was her blade against the column of his throat.  


"Have I completed it now?" She asked, her voice sickeningly sweet. 

"Not yet," he replied, turning to face her despite the very sharp blade against his skin. The smile remained, only this time, he bore his teeth as well. "I had thought you might do that. You must learn to be unpredictable. No one must ever know what to expect from you." With those words, he wrapped one arm swiftly around her waist and hauled her 'round, his left leg swinging to interrupt her momentum, thus sending her sprawling on her back, one booted foot pressed firmly to her wrist. Kneeling, he lowered himself to be a mere few inches away from her face. 

"Sire?" She spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. 

"You must be careful, _ayla,_ alert," he whispered, emerald eyes looking into hers, daring her to look away. "You are in a war now. You may fight for my father's cause, but you will do so with the skills I have taught and will teach you. I am your general, your Prince, your superior in every way. Do you understand?"

Below him, Y/N nodded and let out the breath she did not know she had been holding. "Yes, Sire."

"Excellent," he announced, drawing back and releasing her wrist from it had been pinned beneath his boot. 

Standing up, Y/N cradled her bruised wrist. 

"That will do for tonight," he said, looking back at her. "I trust you are able to find your way back?"

Y/N nodded and waited breathlessly until he had become one with the shadows. 

"Just what in all the Nine Realms do you think you are doing?"

The new voice had Y/N clap a hand over her mouth in shock. Her eyes widened at the familiar voice. "Jorgi?" She whispered. 

"If I answer yes, will you stop calling me that?" He shot back.

"You came back!" Y/N exclaimed as quietly as she could, a smile threatening to split her face in half. 

"Well of course I did," Jörmungandr huffed, "look what happens when I'm gone."

Reaching towards the tree, Y/N held out her arms and fought a smirk when the snake finally gave up and curled himself around her arm. 

"You still haven't answered my question."

Y/N sighed. "As you may have guessed, he knows."

"Then how are you still alive?" Jörmungandr asked, narrowing his eyes. "Or is this a spirit I am talking too?"

Y/N laughed and shook her head. "I am still very much alive."

"Why is he teaching you?" The snake demanded, tightening on her arm. "You practically lied about everything. Has he told the others?"

Y/N shook her head. "Thankfully not."

"Small mercies I suppose."

She nodded in agreement. 

"Why did you do it?" Jörmungandr asked, "why did you give him the moon mark?"

"I suppose I shouldn't ask how you know," Y/N sighed, resigned. 

"Why did you do it?"

"In truth?" She replied, looking down at the snake, "I do not know."

"Of course you do," he said, shaking his head. "You bare a corresponding mark, do you not?"

Y/N nodded. 

"You are no fool, Y/N," Jörmungandr said in perhaps the gentlest tone she'd ever heard from him. "You know what these marks mean and what they do."

"I suppose," she said quietly, not meeting his eye. "I was not thinking with my head."

"No," the snake murmured, "I do not believe you were."


	12. The heavens see our hearts bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wear your heartbreak like your body is a world at war; and every time a soldier dies within it he whispers one last word, and always, it is your name. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill (Heartbreak and War)

"Are you going to be mad at me for the rest of our existence?" Y/N demanded the moment they returned to their tent.

Jörmungandr said nothing. He remained as silent as he had been for the entire day. In truth, Y/N had no idea why he even bothered to come back if he was so determined to sulk and glare daggers at her.

"I honestly don't know why you're even here," she huffed, sitting down to unlace her boots. "All you do is sit there and look at me as though I murdered an entire village."

"Possibly," came the hissed reply.

Y/N's eyes widened, "I'm sorry?"

Jörmungandr shrugged as best as his form would allow. "You asked if I was going to be mad at you for the rest of our existence. And I said possibly."

"Excellent," she groaned and fell back onto her sleeping mat. "Does that include all those sour looks you shoot my way? Not to mention the mutinous mutterings?"

"If I hadn't come back," Jörmungandr retorted, "who knows what sort of trouble you would be in."

"Is that all you believe me to be capable of?" Y/N asked, not even bothering to lift her head. 

"Its all I've seen you do," the snake muttered. 

"Why _are_ you here?" She demanded, sitting up and looking down at him. "Why didn't you just stay away?" 

"Believe you me, I wanted nothing more."

"But?"

"But," Jörmungandr sighed, "it seems our dear Lady Varda wants me to stick around for a little while longer."

"Is this a punishment for you or me?" Y/N grumbled, letting the illusion drop and shook out her hair. 

"You may want to be careful with that," Jörmungandr warned her, looking nervously towards the tent's entrance. 

"Oh please," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Not with this again."

"Yes, with this again," Jörmungandr shot back. "Have you learnt nothing from the last time someone discovered what you are?"

"Quite the contrary," Y/N replied, smirking. "I have learnt a great deal. And, for your information, I shall be learning more tonight."

"What happened to the Y/N that was too petrified to even look at his feet?" Jörmungandr protested. "Have you lost all sense of self preservation?"

Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "He is teaching me to fight, to better defend myself when it comes to fighting the Dökkálfar."

"You didn't answer my question."

"He still frightens me," she admitted quietly. Her gaze fell to her entwined hands in her lap. "But he has not yet told his brother, and for that I am grateful."

"Has it ever crossed your mind that he may well be using you for his own ends?" Jörmungandr demanded, flicking his tongue out as he spoke. 

Y/N nodded and took a deep breath, letting it tremble past her lips as she breathed out. "I know he is," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "He has told me many times that he only values the abilities of my kind and how they can benefit the army."

"Well," the snake murmured, clearly surprised. "I never thought I would see the day where he would tell the truth."

She remained silent. 

"His words hurt you, didn't they?" He asked softly, slithering up to her and curling in her lap. "They still do?"

Y/N closed her eyes and nodded minutely. 

"Does it work?" Jörmungandr asked, resting his head against her hands and blinking up at her. 

"Does what work?" She asked in a voice quieter than a whisper. 

In answer, Jörmungandr gently butted her right hand with his head. 

Y/N swallowed thickly and sighed shakily. "I don't know," she replied. "Maybe the stories had it wrong."

"I highly doubt that," the silver serpent remarked. "Now shall I take that as a no?"

"I suppose so," she murmured, turning her palm to face up, the shimmering marks glimmering to life. "Was I foolish to hope? Or perhaps too naive?" 

Jörmungandr sighed. Something flickered in those e/c orbs of hers. Something that disappeared all to quickly. "Hope is never foolish," he replied. "You did what you were lead to believe was right."  


"By what?" Y/N demanded. "By something that is both the strongest yet weakest part of me?" 

"You feel something, don't you?" Jörmungandr asked softly. 

She shook her head. "If anyone felt anything, it was Seren." Y/N paused and bit her lip, however, when she spoke again, the defeat in her voice was unmistakable. "Whenever he looks at me, he sees only deception and the face of someone who doesn't even exist."

"But you do exist," Jörmungandr replied. "So don't talk like that. Yes, you used your own face as a mask and hid behind another name. But the real question is, why? Why do it in the first place, why not give him your real name right away? It's not like he would have known."  


Y/N sighed and looked the most forlorn Jörmungandr had ever seen her. 

"You can't answer that, can you?"

She shook her head. "In no way that would sound believable."

"Then perhaps in time you may be able to," Jörmungandr said, slithering up rest along her shoulders. "Some questions in life are like that."

"I wish they weren't," Y/N muttered, earning a laugh from the snake.

"You and me both, my girl, you and me both," he replied, nuzzling into her neck. 

"I suppose I had better go then," she sighed. "He will be expecting me and he does not like to be kept waiting."

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure about this?" Jörmungandr asked, worry creeping into his words. "Surely you know enough for yourself?"

"When the time comes," she replied, pulling the illusion back over herself. "I need to be strong enough to protect more than just me."

"Are you certain that this is the real reason?" The snake asked her, raising an eyebrow if he could. "And not because of that?" He looked pointedly down at her palm. 

"You know it isn't."

"Do I?" 

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, Y/N ducked out of the tent, leaving Jörmungandr to follow behind her. He eventually chose to take up residence on Tallagor's back. The horse gave no indication and continued to doze against the tree that stood beside the tent. 

Y/N moved silently through the camp, her footfalls silent until she reached the small clearing by the river. 

He was waiting for her. His back was to her and his face was lifted to the night sky, as though surveying the stars. 

She chose to remain silent, her hands folded before her. 

"I see why your kind prefers the light of the moon and stars," he said suddenly. His soft voice taking her by surprise. "They are distant, unsullied by the toils of the day. They are pure and hold more beauty and wisdom than any being in the universe." 

The last time he had spoken like this was when he believed her to be a mythical creature. Seren. 

She missed it greatly. What she would give to see that look of trust in his eyes again. 

When he turned to face her, she gasped softly. His emerald eyes, usually hard and critical of every move she made, now regarded her with tears. They had not spilled yet, they stayed where they were and made his eyes shine. The moon turned his tears to silver.

"Sire?" She whispered, confused and yet wanted nothing more than to reach out as she had before, but now did not dare too.

"Go," was all he said. 

She did not dare question him. No matter how curious or confused she was by his behaviour. As she faded back into the reeds, she felt his gaze on her back, searing through the layers that her training outfit comprised of.

"Deception is not what I see," the Prince murmured, feeling a single tear break loose. "Nor have my words been the truth."


	13. The fire in her eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We drink the poison our minds pour for us and wonder why we feel so sick. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Watching from a distance, he saw her train. Under the guise of a man, she wielded a great sword. She had certainly grown stronger in the weeks since her arrival. The speed with which she moved rivaled the opponents she now faced. The entire day had been dedicated to placing the men in situations where they would fend off more than one attacker while having no additional help.

It was strange, seeing her without her daggers, seeing them strapped to her thighs and not in her hands. Yet, she was managing well enough with the single blade, as long and heavy as it was. Though unfortunately for her, her attackers were well aware of the fact that it was not her preferred weapon.

Out in the field they were, well separated from the other groups.

It was her speed and agility that aided her more than the weapon she wielded. Even from where he stood some way off, he could clearly see her frustration. Her tendency to growl when annoyed made him smile faintly before quickly schooling his features into an expression of neutrality.

"Not so easy without your little knives is it?" Volstagg taunted her.

Her lip curled, her grip tightening around the sword's handle before quickly ducking away from a swing aimed for her head from his battleaxe. "If only to make it easier for you," she shot back. "My daggers against your axe would have been an unfair fight."

Pivoting to the right, she swung out with her left leg in a powerful arc, the force of the kick dislodging the axe, sending it to the muddy ground beneath. Before she could smirk in victory, she felt the sting of a blade slice into the exposed skin of her left bicep. Hissing, she spun and lashed out, her own sword slashing through the air to meet the offending rapier before it could inflict any real damage.

"You have improved, little boy," Fandral said, sweeping into a mocking bow.

"Have I?" She muttered before snatching up one of her daggers from her leg and spun, releasing the smaller blade as she did so. She smiled nastily when a painful grunt sounded behind her.

"Just like him," Hogun murmured, glaring mutinously at her as he made to pull the dagger from his previously raised arm. The blade was lodged in his forearm, only inches below his wrist. The shock of the sudden impact had him drop the mace.

At this she stepped forward and pulled the blade out, sneering when he hissed in pain. "I would ask of whom you speak, but your tone is answer enough." Stepping back, she knelt to clean the blade on the grass, as trampled as it was. "I wonder," she said, tapping her chin as though in deep thought. "Would you speak so if he could hear you?"

When only silence answered her, she sniggered. "I thought as much."

"Rumour has it," Fandral piped up, sliding his rapier back into its scabbard. "That he is training you. At night," he lowered his voice and leered at her. "Alone. Away from the camp."

"You filth," she hissed, feeling her magic surge to the surface. With great effort, she contained it. No matter how desperately she wished to unleash it on them. "He is your Prince. What is it to you, to any of you? It would do you good to speak of him with the respect you show his brother."

"My my," Volstagg muttered, running a hand through his beard. "So perhaps the rumours are true after all. The liesmith has never been seen with a woman, maybe now we know why."

Y/N felt her eyes widen and her jaw clench tighter than ever before. "How. Dare. You?" She forced out every word from behind clenched teeth. Her narrowed eyes regarded the three of them with barely concealed loathing.

Loki had heard every word. Yet they did not affect him as they clearly affected her. She was acting as though the insult was made to her, the disrespect shown to her, rather than to him. He felt it too. The response of her seidr to the words had surprised him. It was the most aggressive he had felt from her, during their training she was hesitant to allow her magic to become anything more than a little forceful.

Now it felt as though she were restraining a hurricane.

 _"S lepptu, hjarta mitt. Minni þá á sinn stað," _ he whispered, _"sýndu þeim."_

"What trickery are you up to now, brother?" Thor asked, sidling up to him, having made his rounds among the men. 

Sighing in annoyance, Loki looked away, meeting his brother's blue eyes. "No trickery," he replied, smiling thinly. 

Thor regarded him with a look that said he was far from convinced. "Then what were those words I heard you muttering as I came up?" 

"Nothing that concerns you," Loki said simply and crossed his arms. "Or else you would have recognised them."

"I did," Thor replied, smirking. _"Hjarta mitt._ Even a child knows what that means."

"Then you need not question me," Loki shot back. "Or is it you that is spreading those rumours regarding me and young Fintan?"

"So you have heard them then?" Thor asked, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I had hoped you wouldn't."

"Are you responsible for them?"

Thor shook his head. "I would never spread such lies about my own brother. Surely you know that?"

Loki nodded. "You are unable to lie to me, even at the best of times."

Laughing, Thor clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I leave the weaving of words to you brother. But now I must go and speak with them," he said, looking down at the group of four not far from them. 

"The weaving of words," Loki muttered to himself, sparing her one last glance before spinning on his heels and stalking back to his tent. 

Y/N looked up at Thor's approach. A fair distance behind him, a figure retreated. 

She was certain she had heard a whisper, a barely there voice urging her to lash out. _"Remind them of their place. Show them."_ The words slowly faded, becoming a low hiss as it faded into the recesses of her mind.

Jörmungandr was waiting for her as she returned to the tent early that evening. He had taken to no longer going with her. He was alarmed when she simply dropped her brother's sword in the tent and did not go in, instead making as though to head off again.

"And where might you be off to?" He asked.

"The river," she replied. "There is something I must do before the Prince arrives."

"I hope you don't expect me to stay here?"

Y/N laughed softly. "I have come to expect the unexpected. Since no suggestion of mine is ever considered."

"I beg your pardon?" Jörmungandr demanded, eyes widening. 

"Come along then," she replied, "Jorgi."

"Don't call me that if you wish for me to remain in a good mood," the snake grumbled, even as he slithered up her extended arm. 

The journey to the river was a short and well-known one. Jörmungandr was startled when Y/N gently shifted him from her arm and lay him on a flat rock. "Just what are you doing?" He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

"Something I should have done sooner," she murmured before closing her eyes. 

The sound of movement by the river bank alerted him to the presence of another. The sun had set, allowing the chill of nighttime to takeover. Crouching low in the reeds, he inhaled sharply when he saw her. 

Three figures stood before her, shimmering at the edges before the illusions settled. She summoned no weapon, at least none that he could see. Then she began to speak. Her voice was soft, eerily so and as cold as the snow that was coming. _" Cin eithad i rangen,  i cóon -o cín núr." _As she spoke, a faint glow emanated from her hands and settled over the three figures. _"Rhachon le. Lothron cin rad- baw sídh. Lothron cín faer n- in baul. Aden hon gohena na- am cin." _

The figures faded and the words with them.  


"Why did you do that?" Jörmungandr piped up from his rock. 

"It is the least of what they deserved," Y/N replied, moving to sit by the water's edge, the snake slithering from the rock and curling on her leg. "For what they said and how they acted."

"And just how was that?" Jörmungandr asked, "since I was not there, you will have to enlighten me."

"Their disrespect is astounding," she murmured. "Simply because he is different. I have seen him fight, Jorgi. He is better than those three combined. He has done nothing to earn such behaviour."

The serpent watched her and for a brief moment believed he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. 

"But to curse them?" He asked, "it is a rather drastic measure to take Y/N."

"I know," she sighed, looking out across the river. "But they had to be taught a lesson. He deserves their respect as much as Thor does. It pains me to hear them speak so. I only pray he did not hear them."  Extending a hand with her palm facing the sky, she called forth a ball of light. It was small and shimmered as a pearl might. "Seren," she whispered, her voice trembling. 

"Y/N?" Jörmungandr whispered, concern in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I envy her," she replied, the star dancing gently above her palm. Her e/c eyes reflected the light. "I envy someone who never even existed."

"But why?" Jörmungandr asked softly, moving up her extended arm to meet her eyes. 

With trembling lips, she smiled at him, tears catching on her lashes. "Because she had something I never will. His trust and a glimpse at the person he is beneath that veneer. A friend." Her voice softened and threatened to break. "The words I spoke were true Jorgi. He is a broken soul, one who simply wishes for a true and honest friend. Seren was that. My lies shattered that and I will never forgive myself."

"He is well accustomed to lies," Jörmungandr reminded her gently. 

"That does not make mine any less severe," she replied, blinking as the first tear fell. "Everyone deserves the truth, no matter how much they might subvert it."

"You forget, Y/N, that you and Seren are one and the same."

"No," she whispered and released a trembling sigh. "She wore my face, but we are not the same. She was his friend. Something I will never be. No matter how much I might wish for it." 

With a slight movement of her fingers, she made the star fade away. Silence settled over the companions, save for the gentle flowing of the river before them. 

"It is time you arrived before me."

The voice had Y/N shoot to her feet and wipe her hands on her leggings. "Your Highness," she murmured, bowing. 

At his full height, Loki looked down at her. "Look at me," he instructed softly. When she did so, he spoke again. "I wish to see what you know. Though not from what I have taught you."

Y/N cocked her head in confusion. "Sire?" 

"Your seidr was well developed before you came here," he explained. "I simply wish to see what it is you know and how it might be improved."

Nodding, she stepped back and closed her eyes. 

Loki watched in fascination as water from the river rose behind her, the droplets soon changing shape and becoming white with frost. With a slight movement from her hand, they sharpened into points before coming together. It only took him a moment to see what she was doing. 

Sharpened ice stars hovered in the air around her, their points glittering in the moonlight. The moment she clenched her fist, they shot forward, only to come to a sudden halt mere inches from him. 

"Interesting," he murmured to himself as she caused them to dissipate. Her opened eyes met his as the frost of the fallen stars fell at his feet. "You are able to manipulate the elements?"

She nodded, if a little shyly. "It is in the nature of our kind," she replied.

"Then it is time for that to be put to use," he said, "for tomorrow, we meet our enemy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cin eithad i rangen, i cóon -o cín núr. Rhachon le. Lothron cin rad- baw sídh. Lothron cín faer n- in baul. Aden hon gohena na- am cin." 
> 
> = 
> 
> "You insult the broken, the Prince of your people. I curse you. May you find no peace. May your soul be in torment. Until his forgiveness is upon you."


	14. As the cold sets in...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am simply thankful for your existence- whether I am meant to a part of it or not. 
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin

They marched out as the first snow fell.

Word had reached them of Malekith's forces amassing by Mimir's Pass. A treacherous way through the northern mountains. Made all the more dangerous by the new snow that had fallen and the ice that had formed.

While some of the men went on foot, others sat astride their horses and huddled into what warmth their armour provided. Alert eyes darted from side to side, searching for any signs of danger.

"You seem rather tense," Jörmungandr whispered in her ear. 

Y/N fought the urge to snipe back a remark, being fully aware of all those around her. Tallagor moved at a leisurely pace beneath her, the slow movements rocking her into a false sense of security. Even beneath the gloves, her hands felt frozen as they gripped the reins. 

Instead, she settled for simply rolling her eyes and returning her focus to the men before and around her. 

"It's the nerves isn't it?" The serpent muttered, "well, I can't say I blame you."

"For the love of-" she hissed before cutting herself off and clamping her lips shut. Only to open them again a second later. "Will you shut it?" 

"Ah, so she does speak," Jörmungandr sniggered. 

"I'll do more than speak if you keep this up," she whispered harshly. 

"You need a distraction," Jörmungandr replied, sounding thoughtful. "You're very riled up."

"I wonder why," she snapped. 

"The first sign of madness is talking to yourself," one of the soldiers riding next to her remarked. 

Y/N forced a smile and ground her teeth when she heard Jörmungandr laugh silently. "I was merely thinking out loud," she replied. 

The young man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word but said nothing. 

"Thinking out loud huh?" The snake whispered, letting his tongue flicker out. 

Clenching her jaw, Y/N lifted her chin and was determined to ignore him and the looks she was receiving from the soldier next to her. She thanked the stars that it was not one of those loathsome three. They would have made sure to make the rest of the march an absolute misery. 

That being said, Jörmungandr was doing a fine job of it on his own. 

In her efforts to distract herself from his incessant mutterings, Y/N let her eyes wander, not only over the men, but also over the landscape they passed. Everything was dusted in white and despite the horrors they would soon face, she found it to be quite lovely. 

The weak winter sun made the fresh snow sparkle and made her smile. 

"I do not believe I have ever seen you smile like that." 

Thinking it to be her rather irksome reptile companion, Y/N made to shoot something back when she caught sight of the soldier next to her. Glad of her decision to remain silent, she simply nodded and shook her head as though to clear it. 

She stopped mid shake. It was her curse to notice the seemingly insignificant things about a person. The soldier's eyes had changed colour. From a brown so dark it was almost black, to a shade of green she would know anywhere. 

Her heart was in her throat and she swallowed hard. How long had he been there? Had that been him all along? Oh dear Valar, he most likely thought her to be insane. 

"Tell me," he continued, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Is that snake of yours always so insufferable?" 

Y/N looked to him with shock clear in her e/c eyes. Her gaze then whipped up to the front of the procession. There he was, riding beside his brother, his ebony hair a stark contrast to the wintry surrounds. 

"A double, _ayla_ ," he said softly. "My brother believes me to be as uninterested as I usually am." 

_Ayla_. This was the second time he had called her that. Yet, she remained as clueless as before as to what it meant. 

"Might I ask what brings you here Sire?" She asked, fighting not to look him in the eye. "I cannot imagine my company to be very interesting." As she spoke, her hands fidgeted with the reins. 

He did not answer, nor did he look her way when she finally marshaled enough courage to look to him again. But the eyes that eventually looked back at her were not that fresh green one might associate with Spring. No. They were brown again. 

Her thoughts began to spiral, only to be brought to a screeching halt at the sound of Thor's booming voice. "Halt!" 

Gently pulling on Tallagor's reins, she urged him to stop and took a deep, chilling breath. Her keen eyes latched onto the brothers as they leaned towards each other, appearing to be speaking, while Thor would occasionally look over his shoulder at the gathered men. 

Her attention, as fractured as it was, could not look away and something within her longed for those emerald eyes to find hers. Even if she was near the back. But not once did he turn his head. 

"I wonder what's going on," Jörmungandr whispered, earning a hum of agreement from Y/N. 

The curious silence that had settled was soon broken by Thor turning his horse so as to properly face the procession. Loki, on the other hand, remained as he was. 

"I require a volunteer," Thor called out. "A volunteer to scout ahead for us, for we are very near Mimir's Pass and therefore Malekith himself." 

Before her brain fully realised what she was doing, Y/N flung her left hand up into the air. "I volunteer," she called out. 

"You _what?"_ Jörmungandr hissed. "Put your hand back down before you embarrass yourself." 

Staunchly ignoring his remarks and the sniggers coming from the men around her, Y/N lifted her chin and met Thor's blue eyes. "I volunteer, your Highness." 

Evidently fighting a smile, Thor waved her forward. "I thank you Hrókrson, for your bravery in accepting this mission." 

Y/N bowed her head. "I am merely doing my duty Sire," she replied. 

"Nonetheless," Thor said, "I am grateful, we both are." 

Y/N kept her gaze trained on the pommel of her saddle, thus missing how Loki finally moved, glancing at her over his shoulder. 

"I shall report back as soon as I am able with Malekith's precise numbers and position," she murmured. 

"Very well," Thor replied. "You have two hours." 

Nodding stiffly, she shifted in the saddle and gently urged Tallagor to move. As she moved past him, she heard him whisper one word. "Fool." Any venom the word might have borne was taken away by the look in his eyes. A strange combination of incredulity, admiration and dare she believe it, fear. 

Two hours was nothing, she knew that as well as anybody. 

"If this all goes south," Jörmungandr said the moment they were out of earshot. "I am blaming it all on you." 

"You say the most encouraging things," she muttered as she directed Tallagor off the beaten path. 

"Just why _did_ you do it?" He demanded. 

It took a while before she answered. All the fight had left her, leaving a soft, small whisper in its place. "To prove myself, I suppose." 

The sheer vulnerability in her voice and eyes had his anger melt away. "To the men?" He asked, gentler this time. 

When she nodded, he sighed. "You have nothing prove to them, my dear. Is it not enough that you are an able fighter in their eyes?" 

"I wish it were," she murmured, e/c eyes scanning her surrounds. She was sorely tempted to send her magic out, but soon dismissed the idea. Malekith no doubt had sorcerers of his own that would feel her prodding. 

Jörmungandr eyed her from his hidden place among her armour. "It isn't merely the men is it?"  


"I'm sorry?" 

"I saw you look at him," Jörmungandr replied softly and shook his head at the most minutest changes in her expression. "Will it be a waste of breath to warn you?" 

Y/N shook her head. "There is no need to say anything further on the matter. I am nothing but an instrument of war, at least to him." 

The silver snake said nothing. He had seen the way the Prince had looked at her, even if she didn't.

"So let us not speak of it," she whispered, her eyes holding a desperate plea.

For the first time since their meeting, Jörmungandr felt something akin to sympathy for her. Nodding, he nestled his head against her pulse point. "As you wish."

It wasn't long into their journey before Y/N dismounted and led Tallagor by the reins. 

"Are we close?" Jörmungandr whispered. 

"Very," she murmured in reply before she held a finger to her lips. 

Securing Tallagor to a low branch, Y/N sunk into a crouch before continuing to move forward, allowing her magic to shield them from any prying eyes. 

A soft gasp blew past her lips as she broke from the tree line and stood on the crest of small hill, overlooking what seemed to be a sea in motion. A sea of dark elves. 

~ ~ ~ 

His grip on the reins had tightened when her voice had called out. He refused to turn around, lest his eyes should meet with hers. He heard the mocking whispers from the men behind him as she volunteered.

She was braver than the lot of them. Or was it foolishness? Her sense of direction was deplorable at best. What was she hoping to accomplish with this?

He did not turn as she spoke with Thor, even though it caused him pain to do so. The eyes he would see would not be hers, nor would the face be. That is what he told himself.

He allowed himself one word. It lacked the force he was aiming for. She was a fool though, was she not? Heading off alone into unfamiliar territory. The chances of her becoming lost on her way back were great and the mere thought of her desperately looking for them sent a bolt of fear through him. Fear that she may not make it back. Fear that he may not see her again.

Loki did not know how much time had passed since she had left. The sun was obscured by the grey clouds, hiding its position to those down below. "Surely he ought to have returned by now," he drawled.

"I agree," Thor replied. "We shall give him a little while more."

 _'I bid you find your way back,'_ Loki thought, wishing he were able to send the thoughts to her. _'Return to us.'_ He took a deep breath and let it stutter softly from him. _'Return to me.'_

A part of him urged him to send out his seidr to search for her, while another scolded him for it.

 _"I cannot imagine my company to be very interesting."_ The last words she had spoken to him before he had fled. Fled like the coward he was. He heard the pain behind the soft words, a falsehood he himself had planted.

"I regret to say that we cannot delay a moment longer," Thor said, tearing Loki from his thoughts.

His heart begged him to reason with Thor for more time. "Very well," he said instead, voice soft with resignation.

Nodding in satisfaction, Thor signaled for the march to continue. Beside him, Loki fought the urge to scan the woods on either side of them.

Releasing the reins from the grip of his left hand, Loki called his seidr to his palm. _"Finna hana,"_ he whispered and watched as a faint green light disappeared into the woods.

~ ~ ~

Back tracking as quietly as she could, Y/N found her way back to Tallagor who was waiting rather patiently where she had left him. Untying him, she swung into the saddle and directed him in the direction from which they came.

They were severely outnumbered. She could only hope that reinforcements were awaiting them at the Pass.

A fearful as she was, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Pursuers were likely and the last thing she needed at present. The snowy forest revealed nothing.

"You may want to look ahead," Jörmungandr whisper-yelled. "I think you should duck-"

A muffled thump cut off his words as Y/N's turned head came into contact with a rather low hanging branch. Flinging himself off of her, Jörmungandr could only watch as she tumbled from the horse and into the stream that ran alongside them. 

Tallagor, feeling no one on his back, skidded to a halt and looked back to see his mistress rising from the stream, spluttering, coughing and cursing rather colourfully for an elf. 

Jörmungandr it seemed, was the only one to find any humour in their present situation. From his perch on Tallagor's back, the serpent laughed and began to wheeze with the effort to breathe.  


Y/N glared up at him, her e/c eyes narrowed, her h/c hair soaked and plastered to her head. Unfortunately for her, the bank was rather slippery and in her current state, she slipped more than she climbed. Finally managing to claw her way up the bank, Y/N pushed herself to her feet and stood with as much dignity as she could muster. With a small flick of her wrist, a flicker of magic was sent to dry her hair and clothes before any chill could set in. 

"That bruise is coming along nicely," Jörmungandr chortled despite the look she was giving him. Or perhaps in spite of it. 

"Shut it," she hissed, "or I'll give you more than a bruise." With those words, she took hold of the reins and swung herself back up into the saddle. 

"You may want to," Jörmungandr nodded to her body as a whole. "You know. Put the illusion back up." 

"I'll do that when we get closer," she retorted before turning Tallagor in what she perceived to be the right direction. 

"Your funeral," the snake muttered, even as he wriggled into her armour to keep warm. 

"Yours too," she replied, "if I go down, you're coming with me." 

"Brilliant," Jörmungandr groaned. "Quite the selfless one aren't we?" 

"You're one to talk," Y/N said, a hint of distraction in her voice as her eyes narrowed to focus. Only to widen as they locked onto the path. An empty path that bore both hoof prints and foot prints alike. 

Disappointment stabbed her for a brief moment before panic began to set in. They were headed for a trap. 

"Lets hope we can catch them before they enter the Pass," she muttered lowly and spurred Tallagor into a gallop. _"Rad- hon,"_ she whispered as the faint scent of peonies mixed with the cold air, a rosy glow following the whispered words into the air around her, preceding her as she rode. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finna hana = Find her.  
> (Translated from Icelandic) 
> 
> Rad- hon = Find him.  
> (Translated from Sindarin)


	15. For the crown upon my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall for someone with an air of mystery and wildness in their bones, but with the kindest eyes and thousand beautiful stories woven into their soul. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill (For The Wildest Mystery I Know)

"I think it's safe to say that we're late."

Y/N barely heard the snake's words as she looked down. The blood rushed in her ears as her heart pounded in her chest. Beneath her, Tallagor shifted restlessly, the scent of blood and iron permeating the wintry air.

Below the outcropping of rock upon which she stood, war raged. Towering mountains caged the two armies as they fought. "I'm too late," she whispered, horror creeping through her. Vídarr had told her many stories of the war. Nightmarish they were and something Y/N had never wanted to witness.

Yet here she was. Frozen and unable to move.

"What are you doing?" Jörmungandr hissed, "put the illusion back up."

"What does it matter?" She muttered, eyes fixed to scene before them. "No one has even seen us yet."

How wrong she was. A realisation she came to only a moment later. Flinging herself to the side, she tumbled to the ground, narrowly missing an arrow aimed right for her. Grunting in pain, she pushed herself to her feet and came face-to-face with her attacker. 

"Big mistake," she bit out, unsheathing her daggers. 

The dark elf smiled behind its mask and readied another arrow. 

"Oh I don't think so," she muttered and lashed out, the small blade slicing through the air and ultimately the elf's wrist, causing them to drop the bow. 

"You'll pay for that," the dark elf hissed, revealing a great sword of their own. 

Calling the dagger back, Y/N swiftly cleaned the blade and brandished them both, "I certainly hope so."

"A wielder," her opponent breathed. "An elven sorcerer no less."

Her patience wearing thin, Y/N launched into a series of attacks that took her opponent by surprise. They responded with equal force. 

Soon it became her daggers against their great sword, hardly a fair fight. 

It seemed that Y/N's duel did not blend it as much as one would think it might. Down below, Loki and Thor stood back to back, surrounded by the enemy. A clear circle surrounded them as they fended off the seemingly endless waves of Malekith's forces. 

The emerald flash of Loki's seidr was both a warning and an invitation to those who thought to best him. Beside him Thor called down lightning and pummeled the dark elves into the icy ground beneath. 

Chancing a glance around, the brothers swiftly took stock. Their men, though outnumbered, were handling themselves better than the circumstances allowed. There were casualties on either side, and the numbers would only grow before the battle was over. 

"Who is that?" Thor asked as he sent off a would-be attacker into a wall of his compatriots. 

"Who?" Loki replied, hissing as a blade made contact with his forearm, causing him to lash out, a green flash of seidr sending the offender off to Hel. 

"That," Thor said, nodding up ahead. "On the hillock."

A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over him. A horse stood near the duel. A horse he would recognise anywhere. Tallagor. A flash of h/c hair caught his attention and Loki soon felt his heart sink. Y/N was one of the fighters. She appeared to be locked in combat with not one, but two dark elves. "I do not know," he breathed. "But she appears female."

"Indeed," Thor muttered, clearly displeased. 

Not liking his brother's tone, Loki made to say something when Thor's eyes widened. "What is it?" He asked instead. 

"Ready yourself brother," Thor whispered, "the worst is yet to come."

Turning to where his brother was looking, Loki fought a groan. Malekith, it seemed, was determined on their destruction. Five Kursed were slicing through the throngs, heading straight for the Princes. 

"We will take them together," Loki said, "you and I."

Thor smiled briefly and nodded. "Shall we?"

"With pleasure," the younger Prince replied, a cruel smile curving his lips. 

Grunting with effort, Y/N pushed her now prone attacker off of her and rolled to the side, breathing heavily. The two dark elves that had seen fit to attack her lay unconscious around her. 

Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled to the edge of the outcropping, her e/c eyes sweeping over the mass. She did not know what she searched for until she found it. Green, the colour of new life, stood out amongst rest. 

She watched, frozen to the spot. He had been separated from his brother and was surrounded by two hulking figures, ones Y/N recognised from the stories she had been told. "Kursed," she whispered, horrified. 

"I pray I just misunderstood you," Jörmungandr muttered, slithering back to her from his hiding place. 

Y/N shook her head, her gaze fixed on his form as he fended off his attackers. "I wish you had," she said softly. "I have to go," she murmured, turning towards Tallagor. 

"And just where might that be?" Jörmungandr asked, twisting himself to look her in the eye. "You are injured, in multiple places. You are in no fit state to do any more fighting."

"It is my duty," she hissed. "As a soldier to the Crown."

Jörmungandr narrowed his eyes at her. "But you are no soldier, are you? You impersonated your brother. Stealing an identity does not make you that person."  


Snarling, Y/N threw the serpent to the ground and vaulted up into the saddle. "I have to go. The Princes need my help. Stay here for all I care-"

"Loki!" 

Thor's cry had her head whipping 'round, eyes searching for the brothers. Her blood ran cold as she caught sight of Thor's distress. The Kursed appeared immune to his magic and the lethal sharpness of his blades. Backed up against the rocky wall of a mountain, Loki struggled for breath as one of the Kursed had seen fit to cut off his airway. 

"No, no no no," she whispered, shaking her head and turning Tallagor around. Her breath stuttered out of her as she struggled to calm herself. _" Bróg nin na hon Tallagor," _she murmured to the horse. 

Rearing up, Tallagor set off. Lowering his head to act as a battering ram, the stallion charged through the troops. 

Words then began to flow from her lips, words that echoed off the snow-laden mountains as though she had shouted them. _"Loss -o i beleg adlanna..."_

The sound of hoofbeats alerted both Thor and his attackers to the swift approach of another. A bay stallion was charging its way through the fighting masses, a recognisable figure on its back. The female from the hillock. Almost absently was the way she fended off the dark elves that came for her. She seemed single-minded, goal driven as she came closer.   


_ "Vedui- na nin hu..." _

Everyone heard it, the faint voice, echoing around them and speaking in a language many did not know.   


Tallagor came to a halt and reared, his forelegs delivering a sound blow to the Kursed. The moment he settled back on four legs, his mistress dismounted. He watched as Y/N went straight for the Kursed holding the younger Prince captive. 

"Release him you filth," she growled, ramming her brother's sword into the creature's back and watched with grim satisfaction as it collapsed. The satisfaction left her the moment she saw Loki crumble to the ground, a nasty bruise already forming. Forcefully pushing the body to the side, she fell to her knees, throwing up a shield around them. 

"Who are you?" Thor asked from behind her. 

"It does not matter who I am," she replied, a small sigh of relief leaving her upon finding a pulse. "What matters is that you and your men are vastly outnumbered. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Thor stand not five feet from her. "You and your men must retreat and protect the Capital."

Thor shook his head, his gaze going to his unconscious brother, now gently held by the she-elf. "I will not leave without my brother," he protested. "Give him over to me."

Y/N shook her head. "You have my word that he will reach the Capital. I will protect him, but you must go. _Now."_

"Who are you that I should even take your word?" Thor asked with narrowed eyes. "I know not who you are, nor why you speak as you do."  


"My word must be taken on good faith," she replied, looking the elder Prince in the eye. "It is my sworn duty to protect and fight for the Crown, if I am able. Your brother will be safe with me."

"I will not leave him."

"You must," Y/N insisted, unknowingly tightening her grip. "I will keep him safe, I promise." Closing her eyes, she spoke again, her voice softer this time, _"Heleg -o i oron..."_

"What are you saying?"   


Shaking her head, she said nothing and motioned for Tallagor, who moved to kneel beside her. Thor watched as she gently, but with a firm grip, lifted Loki onto the saddle before turning again to look at him. 

"I bear you no ill will Sire," she said softly. "But you really must go, take your men and go to the Capital."

"You wear the armour of the Aesir, yet I do not recall seeing you among the ranks," Thor said thoughtfully. 

Y/N did not reply right away, instead she swung up into the saddle, her arms encircling the Prince, his head coming to rest against her rapidly beating heart. _"Sir -anqua i Dökkálfar."_

A soft rumbling cut off Thor's next words. A rumble that was soon followed by distant shouts of panic from both sides. "Avalanche," he hissed, glaring at her. "You caused this?" 

Y/N nodded grimly. "Retreat to the Capital, Your Highness. I will meet you there." With those words, she directed Tallagor in the way they had come. The last she heard was Thor calling for retreat. 

All around her, the snow and ice cascaded down the mountains and covering all those not quick enough. Aesir and dark elf alike. Bending as low as she could, she shielded herself and Loki from the avalanche. 

Tallagor ran as he had never run before, swiftly taking his mistress and the Prince far from the battlefield. 

From his vantage point high above the battle, Malekith watched her. His eyes latched onto her retreating figure. 

"The Princes have evaded us Sir," his General reported. "Shall we continue as planned?"

Malekith smiled. "One may have, but the other has not. A she-elf has seen fit to intervene," he turned to face the small group behind him. One in particular. "Track her, find them."

"What of her Sir?"

"Kill her," Malekith replied, "but bring the Prince back to me. I am sure his dear mother will give in to our demands for the return of her precious son. But kill her, the she-elf, she is of no use to us."

"Yes Sir." 

"The remainder of our forces will march on the Capital as planned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bróg nin na hon" = "Bear me to him."
> 
> "Loss -o i beleg adlanna vedui- na nin hu. Heleg -o i oron, sir -anqua i Dökkálfar" = "Snow of the great slopes listen to my voice. Ice of the mountains, flow against the Dark Elves."


	16. The chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the moment I saw her I knew this one was worth a broken heart.
> 
> ~ Atticus

The confidence she had been feeling while speaking with Thor had quickly dwindled the further they got from the battlefield. Her grip on the reins tightened as she became very much aware of a certain Prince lying against her. His eyes remained closed and if it had not been for the subtle rising and falling of his chest, Y/N would have feared the worst.

The cool air became icy as Tallagor continued to run. Above them the sky remained mercifully clear, though snow already covered every surface and capped the not-so-distant mountains.

 _"Noro lim,_ Tallagor," she urged, bending as low as she dared. In truth, she did not know where they were headed. Only to get away from the battlefield as far as possible. Somewhere safe where she might be able to go about healing his wounds and her own before delivering him back to the Capital as promised.

A small wood grew on the horizon and seeing no reason to avoid it, Y/N directed Tallagor towards the trees. The snow dusted the bare branches, barely visible as they whipped past, occasionally stinging the already freezing skin of her cheeks.

It was a flash to her left that alerted her. They were not alone. Looking to her right, she saw the same and swallowed hard as fear overtook her. Forcing herself to focus, Y/N gripped the reins tighter and fought to calm her breathing. The passing trees made it impossible for her to see her pursuers.

When at last she broke from the treeline, she squeezed her calves in a wordless encouragement for Tallagor to run faster. Braving a look behind her, she felt all the blood leave her face upon seeing their identities.

"No," she whispered, strangely determined. Setting her jaw, she refocused and tightened her hold on the as yet unconscious Loki. The dark elves would not have him, not if she had a say in it. There were six of them flanking her, each astride snow white horses. Six against one, not the best odds.

Glancing down at the Prince, she smiled briefly and as she leaned forward, her lips brushed lightly over his hairline.

Something dark grew on the horizon, a thin line that gave Y/N a rather bad feeling. A thin line that she realised all too soon was the preview to a rather deep and reasonably wide crevice. _" Cabed bo nin peth _Tallagor," she said, her fearful eyes looking over her shoulder to gauge the distance between her and the dark elves.

The fear returned full force as the crevice loomed closer. Heights were something that Y/N was never all too fond of. As Tallagor raced closer, she dared one final glance and gasped as to just how close they were.

"Hold on _meleth nin,"_ she murmured. "Hold on." Looking up, to the opposing side, she tightened the circle of her arms. _"Hi_ Tallagor!" She cried, prompting the horse to leap, arching gracefully over the looming crack in the earth. Squeezing her eyes shut, Y/N tucked her head down, even as Tallagor touched down on the opposite side.

"You can look up now."

Y/N's head shot up at the voice, so close to her ear. With burning cheeks, she realised she had buried her face in Loki's shoulder. Loki who was giving her a rather unimpressed look right now.

Unable to come up with a coherent response, she looked over her shoulder to see the dark elves still lingering uncertainly at the crevice's edge. _"Noro lim,_ Tallagor," she whispered desperately, _"noro lim."_

The horse needed no further instruction. He leapt forward and galloped forwards and away from the elves that were only now working up the courage to cross.

Y/N kept her mouth shut as more distance was put between them and their hunters.

"You are afraid," Loki said, looking up at her.

She stubbornly shook her head. "No Sire."

Raising an eyebrow, he elected to remain silent. Her words had been a lie. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her heartbeat that echoed rapidly beneath his ear. Her hair, coming loose from its arrangement, whipped around her face, no more so than when she would look over her shoulder.

"You are afraid," he said again, gentler this time.

Again, she shook her head. "No Sire."

The lie was as clear as day. He saw it in the way her hands gripped the reins and how her arms were securely circling him and holding him close to her. She was scared. For herself? That would be the most obvious choice. He knew well who was tracking them. "Stop."

The first time she did not hear him, or at least pretended not to.

"Stop," he commanded, earning a wide-eyed look of horror from her.

"Sire I can't," she protested. "We have to keep going."

"There is no need for you to become entangled in this," he replied, a little too calmly. "Stop now."

Y/N shook her head, "your wounds have not yet healed," she whispered. "And I refuse to let them take advantage of your weakened state. I cannot allow-" she cut herself off and looked staunchly ahead, her jaw set a little too tightly.

"It matters not what you will allow or not," he told her firmly. "They will not hesitate to cut you down."

"Will they not do the same to you?" She asked.

"Stop," Loki said again, this time a note of pleading had entered his voice. "It is me they seek, not you. A royal hostage provides excellent leverage. You are nothing to them, you do not matter to them."

Y/N swallowed hard and bit her lip. "I can't-" she whispered, refusing to meet his eye. "I promised your brother."

"My brother?"

Y/N nodded. "Indeed Sire. I promised him that I would bring you to the Capital."

"He saw you then?"

"Yes."

That single word hung between them as Tallagor continued to run. When some time had passed and Loki had lapsed into silence, Y/N braved a glance down and saw that his eyes were closed, his head over her heart.

"I will not leave you behind _melamin_ ," she whispered. "My life is nothing without you in it." Tears stung her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them at bay, even as she looked over her shoulder and saw their pursuers getting a little too close for comfort.

Tallagor did not stop, not hesitating to gallop through the freezing waters of a rushing river. He did not stop until his mistress pulled on the reins. Before them yawned the mouth of a cave. Dismounting carefully so as to not jostle the Prince, she spoke with Tallagor. " _Beri- hon ," _she whispered, eyes lingering where the Prince lay across Tallagor's back.

Understanding her meaning, the stallion trotted lightly into the cave and watched as his mistress erected a shield. The scent of peonies soon sweetening the air.

Turning her back to the cave, Y/N unsheathed her weapons and squared her shoulders. Her seidr surged through her, eager to be let loose.

She did not have to wait long. It wasn't long before six white horses and their infernal riders stopped before her, forming a half circle. Never in her life had she felt as small as she did then. What in the Nine had she gotten herself into?

"Release the Princeling, _she-elf_ ," one of the riders commanded. "Release him and no harm will come to you."

"You speak as though I am to believe you," Y/N replied with more confidence than she felt. Lifting her chin and adjusting her grip on her weapons, she looked the one who had spoken in the eye. "If you wish to claim the Prince, it will be over my cold, dead body."

The speaker smiled nastily and with a signal from him, all six dismounted, the horses immediately stepping back.

"Then so be it."

Clenching her jaw, Y/N felt cold fear flood through her. Then, she did the only thing she could.

"Witch," the dark elf hissed. For there was no longer simply six against one. But rather, six against six.

Y/N smiled, her clones following suit.

When Loki woke, it was to the smell of horse and the distant sounds of fighting. The faint scent of something sweet hung in the air. Swallowing, he winced and gingerly touched his throat. The skin was tender and he hissed at the lightest contact. Pushing himself to sit properly in the saddle, Loki looked around. It was dark at first glance. It did not take him long to see that it was a cave.

Grimacing as he did so, Loki dismounted and soon found himself leaning rather heavily against the horse. The sounds of fighting he had heard upon waking seemed closer now. Blinking, he looked to the cave entrance. His heart felt as though it had stopped beating altogether.

"Y/N?" He tried to call to her, yet his voice came out hoarse and barely above a whisper. Six copies of her were fighting the dark elves that had hunted them. Not even he could tell which was the real her. Each moved independently, yet carried hints of her signature fighting style.

Why was she doing this? Was it simply because she had promised Thor? He dared not believe otherwise, to do so would be to inflict insurmountable pain upon himself. He had done nothing to earn her protection, he had used her and blatantly told her so. If only to hide the true reasons.

He did not know how long he watched her before he decided that staying put was no longer an option. Pushing away from her horse, Loki stumbled his way to the cave entrance, only to come up short as the air shimmered near imperceptibly before him. A shield, carrying the scent of her magic. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he watched as it failed to push past the barrier.

"Your Prince is watching," her opponent sneered.

Y/N felt her eyes widen a fraction. He was awake? Fighting the urge to turn and look, she lashed out with her right leg, her booted foot meeting the elf's chest and sending him sprawling backwards.

"Sire, please," she addressed him without turning, "return to-" the remainder of her request was cut off as she watched one of the dark elves fire an arrow at the shield, right at the Prince's head.

Spinning where she stood, Y/N reached out, her seidr catching hold of the arrow which soon fell to the ground in a small pile of ash. Sending a dagger through the air, she nodded as she heard it hit its mark.

As her doubles handled their opponents and dispatched them one by one, Y/N found herself struggling to gain the upper hand with her own. Her preexisting injuries weakened her as the adrenaline rush slowly faded from her system.

He had yet to feel anything like it. The heart stopping fear. Y/N was backed up against the rock by the cave's entrance, her own weapons lay discarded as they had resorted to hand-to-hand. But now, it seemed that her attacker had one more blade hidden in his armour. A blade that was now dangerously close to her throat, the tip barely brushing the skin, it would have pierced it had her arm not been braced against his, desperately pushing the weapon away.

"I wonder," the dark elf murmured, "would he do the same for you? Were the positions reversed?"

"It doesn't matter," she ground out and kept pushing. Mustering what strength she had left, she summoned her seidr and collected it in her palms before using it to push the dark elf from her. _It shouldn't matter._ "If your master wanted him so badly, he ought to have come himself."

Curling her right hand, she began to restrict his breathing, her own being laboured and harsh in her own ears. Not a moment later, she clenched her fist, letting her seidr wrap tighter around his neck, snapping the bones.

As her doubles disappeared, Y/N took a deep breath before turning back to the cave. With a small wave of her hand, she dropped the shield and entered the cave. "Sire?" She called to him.

She looked the most exhausted he had ever seen her, despite her valiant attempt to hide it. When she extended a hand, he saw it tremble. "Come away from there," she said softly.

"Would you have done it?" He asked before he could stop himself, "would you have done it had Thor not asked you too?"

Y/N retracted her hand and licked her dry lips, nodding but remaining silent.

"You would risk exposure to save me?"

She looked down and nodded, unable to meet his eye.

"Why?" The word sounded like a plea.

At last she looked up. "Do you know elvish Your Highness?" She asked softly.

"Of course."

"Then you know why."

Though he was familiar with the language, he did not understand or speak it fluently enough to understand the words she had spoken on the road.

Summoning a ball of light, she let it hover before beckoning him forward. "Will you allow me to tend your injuries Sire?"

What could he do but nod? He was as yet too weak to heal himself. So he lowered himself to lay on the bedroll she had unpacked. He flinched as her fingers gently skated over the bruise around his throat. A warm sensation bled into the injured skin as she murmured words too soft for him to hear.

Soon the sky darkened behind her, the light of the setting sun streaming softly into the cave and playing with her hair. In that moment, she appeared as perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen her. Exhaustion had long since taken over and so now she slept, her own injuries healed once she had tended to his own. Her chest rose and fell steadily. Try as he might, he could not resist reaching out to clear a few stray h/c strands away from her face.

"Perfect wretch," he whispered, "what have you done to me? Must you cling so to my heart?" His trembling touch lighted on her cheek for a brief moment, a sigh stuttering out of him. "To gaze upon you is to breathe and when you have gone from my sight-" he cut himself off, closing his eyes as a single tear escaped. "How am I expected to survive? This- this is a crushing void, licked with flame." Opening his eyes once more, he gazed at her, set against the star strewn sky. The enchantment in her new shield prevented the cold from seeping in. "You hold my heart in your hands, even if you do not know it. I beg you not to crush it."

Never before had he regretted a lie as much as he did then.

When Y/N woke, it was dark. Looking to the side, she smiled faintly at seeing Loki fast asleep. Standing up as quietly as she could, she padded her way to the cave's entrance and sat against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.

She did not know how long she sat like that, only that one moment all was well and the next, ragged gasping was heard echoing through the cave. Springing to her feet, Y/N hurried to where the Prince slept. Reaching out, she lay a gentle hand on his forehead and gasped softly, his skin was burning hot. His eyes were open, yet he did not see her.

Instantly, her mind went over the injuries he had sustained. All of them were minor, all of them except-, except the rather large gash on his side. Y/N had not fully able to heal that one. Her magic wasn't strong enough.

"Your Highness?" She whispered urgently, laying a hand on his cheek to gain his attention. "Sire?" Her only answers were grunts and gasps of pain. His eyes, usually so alert, were now glazed over.

"Forgive me," she murmured as she gingerly lifted his tunic to reveal a rather nasty looking gash below his ribs. Taking a deep breath, she lay a gentle hand over the oozing wound, feeling as he flinched from her touch. Closing her eyes, she focused all her energy towards the injury. A faint rosy glow emanated from her hand as her magic crept into the wound, seeking to heal it.

Her focus was broken by a sharp cry from him. "Sire?" She said softly, reaching out with her free hand, she cupped his cheek. "Can you hear me? Your wound has become infected and my magic is seeking to heal it." Leaning down, she touched her forehead to his. Every sound he made was another crack in her heart. Why wasn't it working?!

Looking up and towards the cave entrance, she swallowed before speaking, her voice fragile and trembling as a plea poured from them. _"Beleg Valar vedui- na nin. Lav- ya bel Na- chil innin-"_ her voice faltered at a whimper from him, causing her to throw caution to the wind and draw him close. She did not stop the tears that began to flow freely down her cheeks. _"Dui na hon."_ The words became muffled as she buried her face in his shoulder, _"nin cuil. Meleth nin."_

 _" Nin -iel," _ a voice as soft as a breeze addressed her.  


Lifting her head, Y/N saw no one, yet the speaker's presence felt tangible enough. " _Nin híril Varda?"_

_ "Cín nall- apha- i elena," _ the speaker replied gently. 

"I am not strong enough," Y/N said softly. "I am not-"

"Hush," Varda's voice spoke and then came a sensation of a hand being laid on Y/N's cheek. "You have already given so much. Tell me, why invoke us?"

Y/N did not answer right away, but when she did, her voice seem to come from some hidden depths of her soul. _"Melinyes."_

A soft sigh echoed through the cave. "Even if it is not returned?"  


Y/N nodded and bowed her head, even if the dark hid her tears and broken heart. "I can live in a world where he does not love me. But I cannot live in a world where he is not."

_ "Oh dilthen er _ _,"_ Varda sighed. 

"Please," Y/N begged. "I shall never ask for anything ever again, only grant me this."

_ "Verui eithel." _

By the cave's entrance three figures moved, having heard every word. The companions looked to each other and nodded, as soon as the sun rose, they would take him and ride back to Thor.  


The task however, was easier planned than executed, for as the sun rose and they moved to enter the cave, they found themselves blocked. An unseen wall stood as a barrier. 

"I will tell you what I told the others," came a female voice from the back of the cave. "If you wish to claim the Prince, it will be over my cold, dead body." As she spoke, she emerged from the shadows and stood before them. 

Y/N fought a groan at seeing who they were. Stepping through the shield, she lifted her chin and looked them in the eye, each in turn. "Does your precious Prince not trust me?" She sneered. 

"Who are you?" Fandral demanded. 

"Not important," she dismissed and moved to position herself between them and the cave's entrance. 

"I'd say its very important," Volstagg shot back. "You take off with one of our Princes and do not expect pursuit?" 

"Prince Thor and I had an agreement," Y/N replied, folding her arms.

"You are a stranger to him and to us."

At this she smiled, "I am more familiar with you lot than you might think."

"Enough of this," Hogun hissed, wielding his spiked mace. "Hand him over."

Pulling her brother's sword from the scabbard strapped to her back, she said simply, "no."

She did not employ magic this time, relying on brute force and the inherent speed of her race instead. She knew the shield, as well as Tallagor, would protect him should she be taken too far. 

Three against one, not the best odds but ones she had faced before. 

Her movements struck them as though they had faced her before. In a duel neither could remember. 

Swiping out with her left leg, she caught Volstagg off balance, who in turn crashed in Hogun. Her blade, that of a great sword, hovered a mere few inches away from Fandral's throat. 

"Have we met before?" Fandral gasped out. 

His answer was a cold smile and an inclined head, as though she were listening out for something. Then her left arm flung out, releasing a dagger that embedded itself in Volstagg's thigh as he sought to creep up on her. 

"Don't even think about it," she hissed and spun, the blade of a second dagger at Hogun's throat. 

"Your sword," Fandral whispered. "I have seen it before."

"Indeed," Volstagg grumbled, leaning heavily against a tree as he gripped the dagger's hilt. "This all seems very familiar."

"Little Fintan," Hogun gasped in shock. 

Y/N smiled and nodded before stepping back and recalling her dagger, earning a grunt from Volstagg. "Took you long enough." As she spoke, she cast the illusion, yet kept her voice. 

"Impersonation is treason," Fandral informed her, a little too smugly. "You will die for this."

"But not before I deliver the Prince to the Capital," Y/N replied, sheathing her weapons. "And I do so look forward to hearing you tell your Prince how you were bested by a woman. I imagine your pride will suffer quite the blow," she sniggered. 

"Why you little witch!" Volstagg hissed and advanced on her, only to be brought up short as he struggled to breathe. 

"I would be careful if I were you," she tutted and curled her hand slightly tighter. "For should your companions take a step further, your hurt pride will be the least of your concerns."

"We will escort you back to the Capital," Fandral said reluctantly. 

Y/N shook her head and released a gasping Volstagg. "No. You will not. You will escort yourselves back. I will not entrust his Highness to you lot, of all people. I can guarantee his safety. Can you?" 

When silence answered her, she smirked. "I thought as much. Now gentlemen, please be on your way before I regret my decision to spare you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cabed bo nin peth = Leap on my word.  
> Hi = Now.  
> Noro lim = Run swift.  
> Nin -iel = My daughter.  
> Cín nall- apha- i elena = Your cry touched the stars.  
> Oh dilthen er = Oh little one.  
> Verui eithel = Very well.


	17. The closing distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wore a thousand faces to hide her own. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

No sooner had the Warriors Three departed, then Y/N darted back into the cave. They had to leave. They had to leave _now._ In no time at all they would return to Thor with the news of her deception and likely some other lie they would concoct along the way. 

Tallagor was awake and watching her, he remained silent as she saddled and bridled him, her movements measured and slow so as not to wake the still sleeping Prince.

After having secured the bridle, she lingered and touched her forehead to Tallagor's own. _"Carrui i cóon na i othrond,"_ she whispered. Drawing back, she looked into one of his eyes. _" Cheb- hon barn." _As though in answer, the horse nuzzled her cheek, eliciting a soft laugh from her.

Loki watched her through barely-open eyes. He could not quite make out what she was saying to the horse, her voice was too soft for that. He had heard what she said to the Warriors Three and heard what had happened. Why was she acting thus? She had no reason to protect him, nor wish for his safety. Why did she not simply let them have him? Surely that would have taken a load of her hands.

_"I promised your brother."_ Her words echoed in his ears as surely as if she had just spoken them. She had not met his gaze then, she rarely did. Closing his eyes, he sought out the memory of her eyes. Moonlit and beautiful. Full of trust and the longing for companionship. But they did not come to him. The ones he saw were filled with caution and confusion, even fear.

He had no right to the memory of her shy, but genuine smile. Or of the shine in her eyes as she gazed up at him from the water. He had hurt her too grievously to be allowed to hear her soft laughter. _'You may have lied to me,'_ he thought, eyes opening a little again. _'But you did not do it with the intention to harm.'_

Not like he had. Not like he always did. His words rarely brought comfort. 

Tallagor nudged her in the direction of the Prince and nickered softly. When Y/N looked to him, she saw him to be awake. He was sitting by the small fire she had built through the night, affixing his bracers to his forearms.

A soft smile curved her lips as she watched him. A sigh whispered past her lips before she could catch herself. If her plan worked, then this could well be the last time she would see him. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought.

Immediately righting herself and dropping her gaze to where her feet shuffled. "I bid you good morrow Sire."

"The same to you," he replied, standing to his full height.

"I fear we must be on our way," Y/N said. "Your brother will be expecting you." Backing towards the horse, Y/N stepped aside and took hold of the reins as though to steady him. 

"He is your steed, surely you will mount first?"

Y/N shook her head. "No Sire. I invite you to do so, you are a Prince after all, it would not be right for me to do so."

Loki narrowed his eyes at her in thought, his head slightly canted in confusion. A brief moment passed before he took the reins from her, being careful not to brush against her hand. With practiced ease, Loki swung himself up into the saddle.

"Tallagor will take you back to the Capital," Y/N said, beginning to back away. "You will be safe with him."

"Pardon?" He wasn't sure he understood her, was she not going with them?

Mistaking his meaning, Y/N began to hastily backpedal, "I meant no offence Sire. Forgive me."

"None was taken," he replied. "But are you not accompanying us?"

Y/N nodded. "Tallagor is a fast runner, but he runs swiftest with but one rider. That rider must be you Sire."

"Why can it not be you?"

"I should think it obvious Sire," she murmured, looking anywhere aside from at him. "You are more important than I. Of more value than a mere peasant girl," as she spoke, she shrugged her shoulders.

Loki shook his head, unable to form words. Norns! This woman never ceased to confuse him. What was she thinking? "What?" He whispered.

Y/N sighed. "I shall cast a simple illusion over you," she explained while smoothing a hand down Tallagor's muzzle. "You shall have my appearance, but only until you have crossed the threshold," she added hastily.

"Why?"

"Malekith will not be expecting to see a lone she-elf ride into the Capital," she said.

"But what about you?" Loki could not stop himself from asking, his grip on the reins tightening. "What will become of you?"

Y/N laughed then, taking him by surprise. It was no happy sound. It was void of warmth and sounded hollow. "Why does my fate concern you?" She asked, finally looking up at him. E/c meeting green. At the shock in his eyes, she began to back track and once more averted her eyes. "I apologise Sire. That was rude and unwarrented. Forgive me."

Why indeed did her fate concern him? _'Because the thought of a reality without you is one I cannot bare to consider.'_

"I am but a mere soldier," she continued and laughed softly, sardonically. It took Loki a moment to realise that she was laughing at herself. "But I am not even that am I? I am but a girl who is out of her depth. A girl who wanted nothing more than to spare her crippled brother the humiliation he would face. But what have I done instead?" She asked, the tears beginning to burn behind her eyes. "I have failed my family rather miserably and heaped the humiliation I was hoping to spare him from, upon myself."

Her words, though meant for her, stung him, caused a crack to form in his ever present mask of indifference.

"I shall let you go now Sire. Tallagor will help you, follow you faithfully. He will stay with you until I call him back."

"And when shall that be?"

"I do not yet know," Y/N replied. "But until then, you must go and do not think of trying to turn back, Tallagor will not obey."

"You expect me to leave you here?" Loki demanded suddenly, earning a look of surprise from her.

"Yes," she whispered and stepped further away."You must."

"Are you commanding me now?"

"I suppose I am," Y/N answered without flinching. "For your safety means more to me than, well," she looked down and smoothed her hands along her thighs. "My own, I suppose."

"Please look at me."

Startled by the soft tone with which he spoke, she did as asked.

"I cannot leave you behind," Loki said, "not again. I will not allow it." Holding the reins with one hand, he held out the other to her. "Take my hand." It was no request.

Y/N lifted her chin and set her jaw, her keen eyes catching on the slight tremor in his hand. "Is that an order?" She asked.

~ ~ ~

"I should not have listened to her," Thor muttered for the hundredth time. "I should not have listened to her."

"Worrying about what you should or should not have done will not help anyone," Frigga commented from her place by one of the gallery pillars. "We must have faith that she will keep her word and bring Loki here."

"He ought to be here," Thor said, exhaling shakily.

"I know," Frigga sighed and approached her eldest. Wordlessly, she drew him into an embrace and simply held him, only parting at the sound of cannon fire.

"Malekith," Thor hissed, calling his hammer to him. "He is here."

"Indeed," the Queen murmured before looking to her son and directing his gaze to hers. "I know you will fight and defend, but look for your brother, swear to me that you will not let him be among the fallen."

Swallowing thickly, Thor nodded. "I swear it, mother."

Embracing quickly, mother and son parted. Frigga let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. She had much to prepare.

Sweeping down the hallway to the great hall, Thor called to his most trusted. Surely, they ought to have returned by now. And with them, hopefully Loki too.

The Warriors Three stood waiting before the throne and bowed low at Thor's entrance.

"Where is he?" Thor demanded. "Where is my brother?"

The trio exchanged an uneasy glance with each other, something the Prince did not miss. "Your Highness," Fandral spoke up, even stepping forward. "We tracked them down to a cave beyond the Great River-"

"But?" Thor interrupted, "I do believe that there is _but_ coming up?"

The blond warrior nodded. "As you can see, Prince Loki is not with us."

"I did not ask for the obvious, Fandral," Thor hissed, "I can see that my brother is not with you. Now, Malekith is on our doorstep and I need you to tell me, WHERE IN HEL MY BROTHER IS," he roared, the words echoing in the otherwise empty all.

"She refused to give him up," Hogun replied, even he was slightly cowed at Thor's outburst. "She fought to keep us from him."

"So you were bested?" Thor asked, severely unimpressed. "Defeated by none other than a she-elf. A woman neither of us have seen before yesterday? What is her name?"

"She did not give it," Volstagg answered, eyes lowered.

"So you left my brother in the hands of a stranger whose name we do not know?"

"It so happens that we do know her, Your Highness," Fandral said, fiddling with the pommel of his rapier. "Her armour, her horse, her sword. We have seen them before."

"By the Norns, Fandral," Thor warned, "what is this to do with Loki's absence? It is unlikely we will see them again."

"Do you recall a young man who went by the name of Fintan Hrókrson? He trained with us."

Thor nodded, getting impatient. "Aye, I do."

"She was him," Fandral explained. "She wore an illusion to hide her true nature from us."

It was then that Thor laughed. "Do you, in all honesty, expect me to believe that?"

"Think on it my Prince," Hogun said, inching forward. "She was wearing our armour. The way she fought and moved was a mirror image of young Hrókrson. She carried his sword."

"What reason has she for taking my brother?" Thor demanded. "If she is who you say."

The Warriors Three shook their heads, earning a heavy sigh from the Prince.

"She said that it would be unlikely for you to believe us and that," Fandral paused, looking briefly to his companions.

"And what?" Thor pressed, the sounds of fighting growing louder, making him uneasy and eager to be there beside the men.

"And that her master would reward her handsomely for bringing such a prize to him," Fandral finished, the other two nodding.

"Her master?" Thor ground out, thunder rumbling in the distance as his anger grew. "Dare I ask who it is? Did she inform you of his identity?"

The trio nodded and it was Volstagg who answered. "Indeed she did my Prince. Her master is none other than Malekith himself. She snuck her way into our forces to get close to you and Prince Loki. Close enough that neither of you would suspect her traitorous behaviour, and when you did, it would be too late."

"No," Thor whispered, "no. This cannot possibly be true!" Outside rain and hail pummeled both armies and lightning struck the citadel's towers, illuminating the structure. Then came a clap of thunder so loud, even the Warriors Three startled.

Malekith had Loki. He had his brother.

Thor did not wait to call for them over his shoulder as he marched from the hall. The friends looked to each other and nodded, a job well done. Wordlessly, they followed their Prince out into the hell that was the Capital.

"Should she dare to show her face," Thor informed them as they raced to the battlements of the citadel, "then you leave her to me. I wish to personally dispatch her to Hel for what she has done."

The companions nodded and murmured their assent before brandishing their weapons and facing the approaching army head on.

Malekith did not join in the fight. No matter how much he have wished too. His hunters had not yet returned. He dared not dispatch a second group to track them down, he needed all his remaining forces focused on the Capital.

He could quite clearly see the elder Prince as he fought, calling down thunder and lightning upon his enemies. It was almost time, just a few moments more, the shield surrounding the capital would soon weaken under the constant assault. When it finally collapsed, then it would be his time to move on the palace. He simply had to wait.

With the shield at his back, Thor kept its presence as a reassurance that the palace was at least safe. He only wished that he had been there sooner. He could not see Malekith anywhere, the bastard was likely to be hiding in the shadows until the victory was all but assured.

It was not until he felt the shield crumble at his back that Thor felt his panic increase. For his family. For his men. For his people. He could not let Malekith enter the palace.

In his hurry to return to the palace, he failed to notice a horse and rider gallop into the courtyard, the rider's green cloak billowing out behind him as he ascended the steps.

But others did. The trio saw him follow his brother swiftly and hurried after the Princes.

As guards and soldiers rushed past him, Thor paid little mind to the footsteps behind him. The shield had faltered, crumbling around them, allowing the enemy access. He had to make his way to the generator before they did. Before they destroyed it for good.

"I do believe that it is to the left," said a voice from behind him. A very familiar voice.

Spinning on his heels, Thor turned to face the speaker. There before him, with not a hair out of place, stood Loki. A smirk curving his thin lips. "Brother?" Thor whispered, the word sounding strangled as it left his lips.

Before Loki could so much as nod, he felt the air being squeezed out of him as Thor practically lifted him off his feet in an embrace. Patting his brother on the back, he tried to talk. "Thor-" he wheezed out, "I can't breathe-"

"Right, of course," Thor mumbled, setting him down and holding him at arm's length, the tears in his eyes were unmistakable.

"Don't you go weeping on me brother," Loki remarked, though the relief at seeing his elder sibling was evident as his smirk became a softer, warmer smile. "Or I might regret my decision to return."

His words confused Thor. "Decision to return? Were you not captured by Malekith?"

"Not that I recall," Loki replied, folding his arms. "Should I have been?"

"I was told you were," Thor murmured, eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"And who told you this?"

When Thor looked to his brother, Loki met his gaze with an eyebrow raised in expectation. "By three of the men."

"And might they be the ones you sent to bring me back?" Loki asked, his eyes narrowing. "Even though you had the word of one more honourable than they?" 

"More honourable?" Thor asked, shocked. "Brother, she is a liar. She has deceived us all."

"If it were not for her," Loki shot back, eyes hardening like ice. "You would have been able to count my name among the fallen." With those words, he stepped around Thor and made for the left corridor where a set of solid stone doors would await them to bring them below the palace.

Thor stared after his brother for a short while hurrying to catch up with him. Who was she that Loki would defend her so?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carrui i cóon na i othrond = Carry the Prince to the city.   
> Cheb- hon barn = Keep him safe.


	18. The deception that protected you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are my fate this once and always.
> 
> ~ Atticus

Using a shield to protect herself, Y/N rode through the burning city. Jörmungandr had remained silent since his reappearance outside the cave. He said nothing in the face of her surprise at his changed form. 

Ebony black with streaks of silver that caught in the light of the innumerable fires, he ran, the hot air and the smell of burning flesh stung his nostrils. Stray embers singed his coat and landed in his mane and tail. The wind caused by his passing soon cooled them. 

Y/N felt all the blood leave her face as she caught sight of the citadel. The shimmering of the golden shield was nowhere to be seen. She had not yet caught sight of Tallagor or Loki anywhere and she knew not whether to be comforted or frightened. 

Silver eyes fixed on the newly unprotected palace, Jörmungandr raced towards it, his hooves seeming to barely touch the ground that was littered with rubble and bodies alike. If the shield surrounding the palace was gone, then it could only spell doom for Asgard. 

Ducking low to avoid a flaming wooden beam, Y/N grasped the reins tighter, her lungs burning from the hot air. The snow that fell soon turned to rain, it was as though the heavens themselves were weeping at the carnage being wrought. 

With her hair plastered to her forehead and neck and her meager clothing clinging to her skin beneath her armour, Y/N and Jörmungandr at last came to a halt. Opening her mouth to question him, she quickly thought better of it when a familiar sight greeted her. Her heart leapt within her and without thought for her safety, she dismounted and stumbled her way to where her beloved Tallagor stood patiently waiting in the rain. 

Y/N was only vaguely aware of Jörmungandr grumbling mutinously behind her as he trotted up to where she was, her arms flung around Tallagor's neck. 

"While I am known for being quite sentimental," Jörmungandr piped up from behind them. "I do believe that this is neither the time nor the place."

Planting a quick kiss on Tallagor's muzzle, Y/N sighed. "I suppose you're right." Smoothing back her sodden hair, she stepped back and looked at both horses. "The both of you stay here. I fear you would draw a little too much unwanted attention."

"Stay here?" Jörmungandr exclaimed, "are you insane woman? Actually, don't answer that. There is no way in Hel that I am letting you go in there alone."

Y/N sighed. "Jorgi, you are a horse now. Horses do not belong in a palace, especially not when one needs to be quiet. Your hooves will echo."

Jörmungandr narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing.  


Without so much as a second glance, she dashed up the steps and disappeared into the palace. 

It was dark, and so much quieter than she had imagined it would be. Cold too. Unsheathing her brother's sword, she gripped it tight. In truth, she had not the slightest idea of where she was, only where she had to go. 

Treading as lightly as she dared, she summoned a small light, flinching every time she would step on broken glass or metal. The sound would echo for what felt like miles. Stopping and leaning against a pillar, Y/N extinguished the light and closed her eyes. She was getting no where and all around her the realm was burning. _"Patha- nin i té," _she whispered. 

Something within her guided her forward as her eyes strayed left and right, on the lookout for any of the enemy that might have been lurking about. 

It was unnervingly quiet as her feet carried her through the darkened halls, until they came to a halt before a looming pair of stone doors. Doors which had already been opened. Swallowing nervously, Y/N cast a quick glance over her shoulder before stepping through. 

A staircase carved from stone greeted her. A staircase that spiraled downwards, descending into a pitch black darkness. Bringing her light back, Y/N moved cautiously downwards, her shadow dancing on the stone beside her. She did not know how long she walked, only that when the distant sounds of fighting grew steadily closer, did she grip her brother's sword with both hands. 

Inching down the steps, she soon came to a second stone door, from behind which seemed to be coming the fighting. Resheathing the great sword, she held out her right hand and willed her seidr to flow out and take hold of the doors, forcefully pulling them open. 

The scene that greeted her was one of chaos and had her draw her daggers, one in each hand. Her eyes however, were soon distracted as they were drawn to the centre of the room. The steady pulse of the shield was but a spluttering mess, the golden orb that was the generator, lay in pieces. 

Loki could hardly believe what he was seeing. She was a mess, sure. But she was there. Not daring for one moment to allow his attackers to gain the upper hand, he forced himself to focus on them once more. 

As though in a trance, she moved toward it, fending off dark elves as she went. The shattered orb lay upon a stone dais, several steps leading up to it. She knew what she had to do. 

As the fighting continued around her, Y/N knelt before the broken orb and closed her eyes, willing the world to quieten. Both hands trembled as she held them out. She had never done this before. Her daggers lay on the stone beside her. With her head bowed and hands outstretched, she gathered what strength she had left and sent a silent prayer to the Valar before sending her seidr out towards the broken shield. 

It seemed that Loki was not the only one that had noticed her entrance. 

The dark elves that were not engaged in combat saw their chance. She was vulnerable and exposed to attack. 

"Oh no you don't," Thor muttered upon seeing where they were headed. As much as he disliked the woman, she at least deserved the chance to defend herself. Loki too, seemed of the same mind. 

"It's her," Volstagg whispered to Fandral as the Warriors Three followed the example of their Princes. 

"I know," the blond warrior hissed back, "so why are we here defending her?"

"Because she seeks to protect this realm," Loki replied without a look towards them, his daggers slicing through the enemy. 

Y/N felt the energy grow as her seidr pulsed through her veins. With a soft grunt, she pushed it out, willing it to wrap around the shards and bring them back together. 

"She's rebuilding the orb," Hogun breathed in reluctant wonder. 

"And thus the shield," Thor said softly, the enemy dead at their feet. He turned to Loki. "How is that possible?" 

Loki did not answer. His attention was on her. 

Slowly, she felt it. Her energy was draining away. She could see it, in her mind's eye, what the orb had once looked like. Her hands shook violently as she moved them, the shards sliding back together. 

It was mesmerising to be sure. Piece by piece, it came back together. It was only when the last shard settled itself that she opened her eyes and lifted her head. A ragged breath shuddered through her, the next part was the most dangerous. 

_" I rod plural rodyn -o nin núr dui trí nin na ech- pant hi than,"_ she whispered, the soft words echoing off the cavern's stone walls. 

"What is she saying?" Thor whispered to his brother, Loki merely shook his head. 

"I do not know," he replied softly. 

Then she spoke again, but in words all those gathered understood. They were softly spoken, as before, only now they trembled lightly. "Allow my life to make it strong." 

A choked, strangled denial whispered from the group. Thor, startled, looked to the side and saw his brother shake his head, the echo of the word on his parted lips. 

Y/N had heard it too. The sound tearing at her heart as she realised who had said it. Willing herself to remain focused, she looked ahead. It would do no good to lose focus now. 

As those gathered watched, the orb began to emit a glow, not unlike the gold they were accustomed to. Then, it slowly lifted from the ground and began to spin. 

Y/N knew that she would likely not survive this. She felt her life force leave her and go to the restored shield. On trembling legs, she stood and looked over her shoulder. Only once and fleeting. But once was enough. She saw him standing there, beside his brother. _'You are safe,'_ she thought, _'you are all safe.'_

It all happened so quickly. With one step more, she stumbled and her legs gave way beneath her. Thor called after his brother in confusion as he went to her. Catching her before she hit the ground.  


"I have you," he whispered, supporting her against him. "I have you, you foolish woman."

"Sire?" She said softly. 

"Yes," Loki replied. "It is I."

"The realm is safe now," she said, smiling faintly. Swallowing hard, she averted her eyes. "You are safe."

"Why would you do that?" He demanded as he felt the sting of tears. "Give up your life like that? What of your family?" _What of me?_

"The gift of one's life is the greatest of all," she answered. "Especially when it is given for the protection of another."  


"You will not leave. Not until I have given you leave to do so." 

"Why act as though you care for me Sire?" She asked in a trembling whisper. "I know you do not." 

Loki could say nothing in reply as her words echoed into silence and she went limp in his arms. Bending to touch his forehead to hers, he let the tears come. "I do care for you," he said softly. "More than you could ever know. That is why I cannot let you die." 

Thor and the Warriors Three watched in confused silence as a soft green glow surrounded the she-elf in Loki's arms. 

~ ~ ~ 

In the depths even further below the palace, Malekith felt it. 

Frigga smiled and adjusted her grip on the twin blades she held. The Aether pulsed at her back, a constant reminder of its presence. "The shield is restored," she informed him. "I felt it too." 

Malekith knew what this meant. He and his warriors were trapped inside. With their numbers having dwindled to so few, it would be a scalding defeat. "The war is not yet over, _witch,"_ he hissed. 

"No," the Aesir Queen agreed. "But it will be soon. And not in your favour."

The duel that followed was much like the ones before. Just when Malekith believed the Aether was in reach, Frigga appeared between them, her blades deadly and efficient as she wielded them in defence. 

"You will never again lay eye nor hand upon the Aether," she swore, launching into a series of offensive strikes. 

The cavern was dark, the sounds of combat echoing eerily throughout it. With only the red of the Aether to see by, both opponents were cast in a haunting light as shadows danced over them. 

This was how the Allfather found them, a legion of Einherjar at his back. His one-eyed gaze locked onto them. Frigga's blades glinted sharply in the Aether's red light. Pride flooded through him as he watched his Queen corner the dark elf at the edge of the cliff-edged walkway. Her blade pressed firmly against his throat.

With a motion of the hand that did not hold the spear, Odin sent the Einherjar to apprehend Malekith. 

"You are late," Frigga admonished fondly the moment she stood face-to-face with her husband. "Although, I did have it all in hand."

"I am well aware," Odin replied, smiling softly. 

"This is not the end of it," Malekith spat, struggling to free himself of the Einherjar's iron grasp. 

"I think," Frigga said, stepping up beside her husband and looking down her nose at the dark elf. "You will find, that it is. At least, for you. Your people are extinct, as you will be soon too." 

"Escort him to the dungeons," Odin instructed the soldiers, "to await execution on the morrow."

Frigga waited until they had come back into the halls of the palace before turning to her husband. "Where are they?" She asked, resheathing her blades. "Where are our sons?" 

When Odin did not answer right away, she began to fear the worst. 

"Relax my dear," the King replied, seeing the panic beginning to rise in her eyes. "They wait for us in the great hall, they have news of their own they wish to share."

"Then let us hurry," the Queen murmured, earning a nod from her husband. 

Upon entering the great hall, they were greeted with a small crowd, all of whom cheered and applauded upon seeing their King and Queen. 

Frigga smiled in relief upon seeing Thor and Loki standing side-by-side. That smile soon fell however, something was wrong, terribly wrong. While Thor wore a look of satisfaction, Loki wore one that was a little too calm. Frigga knew this mask of his. A seething fury boiled beneath the surface. 

Raising a hand, to silence the applause, Odin addressed the small crowd. "The victory of this day is a great one. Those who gave their lives in defence of this realm are in the golden halls of Valhalla. We will mourn their passing and celebrate their lives." 

Throughout the short speech, Frigga kept her eyes on her sons. While Thor clapped and cheered in response to his father's words, Loki merely applauded politely and smiled thinly. 

"Now, my sons," Odin said after a brief pause, having waited for silence to settle once more. "What is this news you have for me?" 

Thor stepped forward and bowed deeply, Loki remained as a statue behind him. "My king and father," Thor began, continuing after he had risen. "We bring you news of a deception foiled and a lie uncovered."

Still, Loki said nothing. 

"And what is this deception you speak of?" Odin asked, intrigued. 

"One against the Crown," Thor replied. "One of our own, no less."

"A traitor?" 

Thor nodded. "Indeed, my King. Of the highest order."

"How can you say that?" Loki broke his silence with a hiss, his eyes narrowed at his brother. 

"Because it is the truth," Thor said simply and turned back to their father. "The traitor has been apprehended and is under close watch in the dungeons below."

"You have done well, my son," Odin replied, nodding approvingly. "I shall entrust the public display over to you."

"Public display?" Both Princes asked in unison.

"Indeed," Odin said, "traitors must be punished. The people must see what happens to those that dare to turn against us."

"May I ask as to the nature of the display?" Thor asked. 

Odin's reply was immediate. "A flogging will do nicely."

Frigga watched from her place beside her husband. The changes in Loki's expression were minute, but they were there. There was a flash of horror in his emerald eyes before he turned on his heels and stalked from the hall, the heels of his boots echoing sharply. 

Not thinking twice, Frigga followed him. There was no sign of him as she stepped out of the hall. "Loki?" She called, yet received no answer. "Loki?" Sighing, she began to trace her way to the only place where she could think he would be. 

The library had been untouched by the attack. 

Stepping over the threshold, she gently closed the doors behind her. There, by one of the great fireplaces, she saw him. He was standing closer to the flames than she had ever seen him do. 

_"Svikari,"_ he whispered, the word reaching Frigga. _"Blekkjandi._ You are neither."

"Loki?" She called softly, gaining his attention. The look in his eyes tore at her heart. For a brief moment, he had appeared vulnerable and heartbroken. 

"Mother," he acknowledged her in the same tone before turning back to the fire. "Why are you here?" 

"I could ask you the same thing," Frigga replied, moving to stand beside him. "Why did you leave so suddenly from the great hall?" 

Opening his mouth to reply, he was silenced by a look from her. 

"I wish for the truth," Frigga explained. "I have never seen you quite so angry."

"The discussions of the War Council bore me," he replied, refusing to meet her gaze. "Their talk of punishments sickens me, how flippant they are with the pain of another."

"It is not simply that though is it?" Frigga asked gently, resting a hand on his forearm. "Know you this person of whom Thor spoke?"

It was a while before he answered with a soft, almost reluctant, "yes."

"Who are they to you?" 

"She," he softly corrected, earning a look of soft surprise from the Queen. 

"Very well," Frigga nodded. "Who is _she_ to you?"

"There is no word for it," Loki replied, keeping his gaze trained on the dancing flames. "No phrase in any language that would do it justice."

"Then try?" Frigga asked softly, her eyes followed his every movement, as he stepped away from the fire and turned away from her.

"She is more to me than I deserve."

Frigga sighed sadly at her son's words. "You love her."

Loki nodded, but still did not face her. "By the Norns I wish I did not," he whispered desperately. "It would make this so much easier."

Swiftly swiping away her own tears, Frigga stepped around him to face him. The look in his eyes was utterly wretched, his heart on full display. 

"She is every pulse of my heart, every breath I take," he continued, a single tear tracing down his cheek. "Her absence vexes me to madness." 

Frigga said nothing, reaching out, she took her youngest in her arms and held him close. 

"She almost died protecting this realm," he said, the words muffled in Frigga's hair and shoulder. "And they call her a traitor."

"What cause has your brother to think of her so?" Frigga asked, fingers gently carding through his hair. 

"She wore the appearance of another to save her crippled brother," Loki explained, recalling her words from the cave. 

Drawing back, Frigga looked up at her son. "A most honourable woman," she said, smiling softly and smoothing away the fresh tears from his cheeks. 

"Indeed," he murmured before stepping away and back to the fire. 

"What is her name?" 

Smiling faintly, he replied, "Y/N, Y/N Hrókrdóttir."

"Y/N," the Queen repeated softly. "A beautiful name." 

~ ~ ~ 

It was cold when she woke. Cold save for the scalding heat on the left side of her face. 

Cracking open an eye, Y/N found herself to be lying on the floor of a rather bare room. There was no furniture, only a golden barrier on two sides. Pushing herself up to sit, she leaned back against the wall. 

Curious as to why half her face felt so hot, she raised her left hand and gingerly touched her cheek. Only to cry out and instantly pull her hand away. The pain had been blinding and white hot. Looking down at her hand, she saw her fingertips coated in red. Blood. 

"A brand," called a voice from the room beside hers. 

Looking to the speaker, Y/N swallowed before asking. "A what?" 

"A brand," the broad shouldered man replied. "I do not know what you did to end up down here with us, my lovely," he paused and shook his head. "It must have been something truly horrendous to receive that kind of a mark. Especially in a place so visible."

"What kind of mark is it?" She asked in a small voice. 

The man looked at her with something akin to pity and sympathy in his eyes. "The mark of a traitor."

A horrified gasp left her lips and sent her legs collapsing beneath her. "A traitor?" She choked out, her eyes wide as they filled with tears. Then, without regard for the pain, she raised the same hand and pressed it against the bleeding brand on her left cheek. Her tears mingled with the blood that trickled down her cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patha- nin i té = Show me the way.  
> I rod plural rodyn -o nin núr dui trí nin na ech- pant hi than = The power of my people flow through me to make whole this shield. 
> 
> Svikari = Traitor.  
> Blekkjandi = Deceiver.  
> (Both translated from the Icelandic)


	19. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't recall a time my heart and I were in the same room. I'm always a little elsewhere. Half of me here at home, the other away with you. 
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin (Home & Away)

Any thoughts of healing flew from her mind the moment the cuffs clicked shut around her wrists. There was no chain, no give between them and the metal soon began to tear at her skin as she tried to wriggle her hands to freedom.

The runes etched into the metal told her all she needed to know. Her magic was being restrained as much as she was.

"You won't be getting out of those unless they let you out," the burly man in the cell beside her said.

Resting her head on the wall, she turned to face him. She did not bother to smile, for every movement her face made was pure agony. "How would you know something like that?" She asked.

"The previous occupant of your cell wore much the same ones," her companion informed her. "He tried many times to escape them."

"How long have you been here?" Y/N asked, wincing as the movements of her jaw pulled at the healing brand.

The man smiled grimly. "Oh lass," he sighed, "longer than I care to remember."

Y/N felt herself sadden at the forlorn look in his eyes and the defeated set of his shoulders. "Y/N," she said softly, earning a confused look from him. Attempting a smile, she explained herself. "My name, Y/N."

"Ah," the man replied, lips curving into a toothy grin. "A pleasure to meet you young Y/N. I myself go by the name of Bjorn Fredrikson."

"I wish we had met under better circumstances," she said, sighing.

"As do I lass, as do I."

Before speaking again, Y/N swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "The mark on my face, you said it is a traitor's brand?"

Bjorn nodded. "Aye, it is." He peered at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

"I have never seen one," Y/N continued. "What is the shape of it? Is it a rune?"

Bjorn shook his head and sighed. "There is no rune for traitor, no, this is no rune lass. It is the shape of a star with one hundred points. It is reserved for those who have committed high treason."

"The traitor's star," she breathed.

"Indeed."

"But I'm no such thing," she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "I simply wished to help my brother."

"You have a brother?" Bjorn asked, smiling softly.

Y/N nodded. "Only one. But he was crippled in the last war and so was unable to serve. I took his place and the appearance of another."

"There's your treason," Bjorn muttered, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

"You believe me?" Y/N asked, shocked.

"Of course I do lass," her companion replied, smiling warmly. "I cannot see anything but honesty in your eyes and I have been told that I am fair at reading people."

"Am I going to die?" She asked suddenly, her voice soft and dangerously close to breaking.

"I am not going to lie to you," Bjorn replied after a short silence. Moving so that he sat closer to the barrier that separated the cells, he continued, his voice calm and a little sad. "Nor will I offer you false reassurances. Your fate is in the hands of the Allfather now. If he chooses to keep you down here for all eternity or whether it is the axe, it is up to him."

"What did you do?" Y/N asked softly, shifting slightly, not yet being strong enough to be away from the wall. "If you don't mind me asking."

Bjorn shook his head. "It has been so long and yet I remember every detail." Pausing, he looked down at his entwined hands for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I once served in the army. Like your brother," this brought a small smile from her. "It was during the last war and the troop I was in came across an enemy village. Where my companions set to slaughtering, I tried to spare and protect. For the village was full of women, children and the elderly."

"That is why you are here?" Y/N whispered, "more than a millennia later?"

Bjorn nodded. "I was accused of treason, as you are. My commanding officer handed me over without trial and I have been here ever since."

"But you bare no brand," Y/N murmured, eyes narrowing in thought.

"No," he agreed. "Because, as I said before, that brand is for those accused of high treason, which I was not."

"But I am," she muttered, earning a hum of agreement from her companion.

Silence settled over them. Silence that was not long to last before commotion could be heard coming from the entrance to the dungeons.

Curious and a little fearful, Y/N mustered what strength she had and pushed herself up to stand. Moving along the wall for support, she came to the front of her cell and peered into the corridor beyond. "Can you see?" She asked Bjorn, having seen him do the same as she.

The man nodded. "A troop of Einherjar," the words sent a shiver down her spine as she waited for him to continue. "They are hauling prisoners from the cells and lining them up."

Y/N was hesitant to ask why. 

It wasn't long before they came for her. Deactivating the barrier, they pulled her forward, causing her to stumble. Unlike with the other prisoners, she was fitted with an additional chain that ran from her cuffs to the hands of one of the Einherjar. 

"Time for you to see what happens to your kind," the soldier spat, tugging on her chain. _"Svikari."_

Having no choice but to stumble after him, Y/N chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw the other prisoners being herded along behind her. Forcing herself to focus forward, Y/N used the curtain of her loose hair to shield the brand and clenched her jaw against the constant pain.   


"Oh no," a soldier behind her muttered, "we will be having none of that." 

For a brief moment Y/N was confused but was soon forced to stop walking as the soldier before her held up a hand to the group behind her. Soon she felt a pair of gloved hands roughly take hold of her hair and pull it away from her face and tie it in a rough knot. 

"Everyone will see what you are," the soldier behind her snarled. "There is no hiding for your kind."

With that, they set off once more. 

The palace grounds were empty and for that, Y/N thanked the Valar. But the silence that was there soon faded as the sounds of a crowd grew louder.  Dread and pure fear flooded her system as she followed the guard, her wrists red and raw from the metal of the cuffs. 

The crowd was easily the largest she had ever seen and parted for them. The way in which it parted was not out of respect, but rather disgust. Jeers and taunts were thrown the prisoners's way. Not once, did she dare to look up at any of them. The weak winter sun felt scorching hot on her face and the light breeze that blew had her whimpering lightly in pain as it brushed over the brand. 

Soon they came to halt beside a scaffold upon which stood a wooden block and beside it, a hooded man holding a rather large battleaxe. 

Before her fear had a chance to grow, the loathsome form of Malekith was brought up onto the scaffold. The crowd cheered and booed around them, throwing insults and curses as they would stones. 

Shivering amidst the cold, Y/N stood huddled between Bjorn and the Einherjar that held her chain. 

No speech was read out, listing the crimes of the condemned, merely the raised hand of the Allfather as he motioned for the crowd to be silenced. "Before you stands an enemy of Asgard," Odin's voice rang out loud and clear, drawing Y/N's attention up to where he stood. His wife and sons with him. 

She did not think he would see her or even look her way. For when he did, she could not help but look back. E/c meeting green. 

His father's words faded into nothing and the crowd disappeared. Only she existed. His heart clenched in pain as he saw the mark upon her face, red, raw and still bleeding. The tears that clouded his vision he quickly blinked away. They _branded_ her?! Seething fury coursed through him and made his hands curl even tighter around the armrests of his seat. She soon averted her eyes downwards, causing him to do the same and stifle a small gasp. 

She was shackled and chained, as he had been, all those years ago. 

"Darling?" Frigga whispered, clearly having heard him. "Is anything the matter?" 

With forced calmness, Loki shook his head and smiled for her. Directing his gaze forward once more, he looked to her. Y/N. _'Look at me,'_ his heart begged. _'Please look up at me, if only once more.'_

Neither watched the beheading of Malekith.   


Y/N felt his eyes on her, but she could not bring herself to meet those piercing eyes again. No matter how desperately she wanted to. 

_'He saved you,'_ a voice inside her whispered, _'he brought you back.'_

Fighting to silence the voice, she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. _'I am but an instrument of war to him,'_ she challenged, _'I mean nothing to him. He undoubtedly saved me to see me die publicly.'_  


For a little while the voice went silent, then it came back. As soft as before, but stronger too. _'Not even you believe that.'_  


Didn't she? Of course she did, she had to.   


As the crowd began to disperse, the Einherjar began to herd the prisoners away. A sharp jolt from her wrists brought Y/N back to her rather grim present. Where she was at the front before, she was now at the back, bringing up the rear of the ragtag group. 

Every step she took, or attempted to take, felt as though she were leaving a piece of herself behind. Taking a deep breath, she prayed that the guard would not see her. That he would not see as she turned her head to look over her shoulder to where Asgard's second Prince now stood beside his mother. 

She had never seen him look at her that way before. Painful relief swam in his brilliant, gem-like eyes, right alongside crippling sorrow and heartwrenching guilt. She watched as his lips moved, as they formed but two words. _'Forgive me?'_

Tears burned behind her eyes as her heart replied for her with a small nod of the head. Forgive him? For what? He was not the one who had marred her face or chained her like an animal.

Loki stayed where he was until she was out of sight. Did he imagine that she had nodded her head? His aching heart begged him to believe she had. That she had somehow understood his silent words.

"Loki, come," his mother said softly, gaining his attention.

Looking to her, he saw Thor follow their father back to the palace. Offering his arm for her to take, he wordlessly followed them. The moment they entered the palace, he excused himself, he needed to speak with his brother.

Thor was ahead of him and soon entered his chambers, unaware that he was being followed. Something he only realised when the door closed a little too silently. Having poured himself a fine goblet of mead, he sighed and turned to face whomever had deemed it necessary to venture into his chambers without permission.

Loki was silent as he faced his brother. He would let Thor be the first to speak.

Thor canted his head and looked to his brother in confusion. He had not seen him so tense for quite some time and his silence was unnerving. "What is it brother?" He asked, "is there something you wish to speak with me about?"

The younger Prince nodded, slowly and a little too calmly. "As a matter of fact, there is," he replied.

"Well?" Thor prompted, taking another deep drink from his goblet. "What is it?"

"Just when were you going to inform me that you had her branded?"

The older Prince furrowed his brows in genuine confusion. "Who are you speaking of brother?"

Loki laughed then. A cold, humourless sound. The sound died as quickly as it had come. His emerald eyes hardened as they regarded Asgard's golden Prince. "Do not act the fool _brother."_

Taken aback by Loki's cold tone, Thor did not answer right away. Then slowly, realisation dawned. "I did not realise you wished to be told," he replied smoothly. 

"Does father know?"

Thor nodded and set his now empty goblet aside and folded his arms. "Of course. He was the one who deemed it necessary."

The younger Prince's jaw clenched tighter than ever before and his knuckles turned impossible whiter. "Naturally," he bit out from behind clenched teeth.

"Brother, you are confusing me," Thor murmured, edging closer to his seething sibling. "Why does this anger you so?"

The glare that was sent his way was pure poison. "You branded her like an animal," he hissed, a single tear leaking from his left eye. "Like a common criminal."

"She has committed high treason," Thor attempted to reason, confused more than ever. "It is the treatment all traitors to the realm receive."

"She saved us," Loki said, his tone softer but no less dangerous. "All of us. Even you."

"That may be so," Thor replied, "but that does erase the fact that she lied to us, deceived us."

Shaking his head, Loki stepped away and turned for the door. His hand rested on the handle as he spoke, "she did it to save her brother, who is a cripple."

"How do you know this?"

"Does it matter?" Loki demanded, spinning to face his brother. "You will clearly not believe my words anymore than hers."

"In the eyes of the court and of father, she is a condemned criminal," Thor said. "No matter the reason for her actions."

Shaking his head, the raven-haired god turned back to the door.

"Why does this concern you so?" Thor asked. "Why does one criminal among so many suddenly snag at your attention?"

"She is no criminal," came the whispered reply before the door open and Loki left the chambers.

Thor remained where he was, staring at the closed door long after his brother had left. His brother's staunch defence of that woman confused and surprised him. Why did he feel the need to rationalise her actions to him? Why did he _care?_

After Loki had left his brother's chambers, he made for his own, immediately closing the doors behind him. He did not make it to the nearest seat before his legs gave way beneath him and he crumbled. Clutching his head in his hands, he wept. The tears burned as they left his eyes. Harsh, ragged gasps tore from his lips as the tears increased. Lifting his head, he looked to the open window, where the sun sparkled softly off the fresh snow on the balcony railing.

"Forgive me," he gasped, hands coming to clutch at his heart. "Forgive me for lying to you," he barely finished the sentence before the words dissolved into weeping. Helpless, wretched, heartbroken weeping. "I have watched entire civilisations fall without a care," he whispered, "and yet the only thing I regret is having broken your heart with my lies."

With a gasp, he bowed his head once more and let his body be wracked by sobs. "Forgive me, my heart. Forgive this wretch who calls himself a Prince."

That was how Frigga found him. Saying nothing, she knelt beside him and wrapped her arms 'round him. Almost instantly his arms wrapped around her, his tears soaking into her gown.

She had seen it. She had seen it all. The young woman that had held her son's captive attention earlier that day. The brand upon her face horrified the Queen. Traitors were branded, she knew that. But this appeared so very wrong.

Staying until his weeping had abated, Frigga stood, urging him to do the same. Drawing back, she cradled his face and gently swiped the tears away. "Oh my precious boy," she said softly. "I have not known someone who loves as wholly as you do."

Fresh tears pricked his eyes as he regarded his mother. He tried to smile.

"Rest my darling," she instructed softly. "Your mind and body are exhausted."

"I cannot possibly sleep when-"

"I will go," she interrupted gently and smiled tenderly at her son. "I shall visit her while you sleep."

The look in her eyes brokered no argument, even from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Svikari = Traitor
> 
> Translated from the Icelandic.


	20. My truth in actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda (One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a head's up my darlings, this chapter has some mildly graphic descriptions of a flogging. Please proceed with caution.

By the time Frigga found herself at the dungeon entrance, the sun had long since sunk below the distant horizon. No natural light shone where she now found herself, the prisoners had no way of telling if it was day or night.

The golden glow of the barriers pulsed like the beat of a heart, their gentle hum filtering through the air. The guards, no matter how desperately they wanted to, did not question their Queen's presence in such a place. Although, her presence did evoke curiosity in many of the inmates. She did not care for them, there was someone very specific that she sought.

Lifting her chin, she descended the few steps until she set foot in the corridor that divided the cells. The soft silk of her gown whispered along the ground, the lights catching on the fabric as she moved.

Frigga peered subtly into each cell she passed. Would the young woman have a cell to herself or would she be sharing it with some unfortunate? None she passed held the one she looked for.

A surge of disappointment and confusion welled up. That was, until she saw two cells that were separate from the others. Each bore but one occupant. Encouraged, she hurried towards them. In one, sat a sturdily built, broad shouldered man. In the other, huddled a figure with their back to the corridor.

The man saw her first and edged closer to the barrier that separated the cells.

Approaching the one with the huddled figure, Frigga spoke softly. "Y/N? Y/N Hrókrdóttir?" The figure stirred slightly at the name, a small pathetic whimper being the only answer.

Upon closer inspection, Frigga was horrified to see just how short the young woman's hair was. It had been roughly hewn from her head, small cuts on her scalp indicated a clear lack of care. Gone were the locks she had seen the previous day. She looked so small, dwarfed by the starkness of the cell.

"She has not the strength to move, Your Majesty," the other prisoner said, bowing low as he spoke. "She was only brought back shortly before you arrived."

"Brought back?" Frigga asked, curious.

The man nodded. "Tossed her in they did, as though she weighed nothing. In this state, she probably doesn't," Frigga didn't miss how his tone softened near the end. How his eyes gazed at the younger woman, something akin to sadness in his eyes.

Nodding, the Queen looked back to who she perceived to be Y/N. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused for a brief moment before reopening them. The curled figure lay at her feet, or at least a small distance from them.

Instantly approaching her, Frigga knelt beside her and brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. The young woman looked awful, to say the least. The brand on her cheek was the first to snag the Queen's attention. An ugly thing it was and far from healing. Then as her eyes traveled, she saw large dark purple bruises surrounding the mouth, the lips were swollen and straining against the metal thread that held them closed. Dried blood coated her lips and chin.

When at last Frigga tore her gaze away and looked to the young woman's eyes, she was startled to find them open. Wide open and staring. There was fear in them and had she not been in tremendous pain, she undoubtedly would have moved away.

"You need not fear me child," Frigga whispered. "Nor the consequences of my visit. The guards will not see me."

Y/N remained unmoving. Her eyes remained fixed on her unexpected visitor.

Kneeling beside her, Frigga felt her heart clench at the realisation that Loki most likely had no knowledge of what had been done to her. Frigga knew that he had seen the brand, but aside from that? She dreaded what his reaction would be.

In a soft voice, she began to speak. "Will you allow me to heal you, child?" She extended a hand and let it hover, allowing Y/N time and space to move away should she desire it.

Confusion eclipsed the fear in her e/c eyes. _'Why are you helping me?'_ They seemed to say.

Smiling softly, Frigga retracted her hand to rest in her lap. "I promised someone dear to me that I would seek you out. Find you."

Y/N nodded as best she could and averted her eyes.

"You are an elf?"

Once again, she nodded. Her race was now clear for all to see.

"Will you allow me to aid you?" Frigga asked again, making sure to keep her tone soft and gentle.

After a moment that stretched into eternity, Y/N nodded.

Extending a hand, Frigga gently let it rest atop the brand, wincing inwardly at the small whimper that escaped the sewn lips. Closing her eyes, she called on her magic once more, and soon a soft golden glow emanated from her hand.

The Queen's seidr entered the wound and sought to heal. Yet the injury was too deep to be erased completely. "You will be scarred," she murmured, her tone heavy with regret. "The wound is deep."

Y/N watched in silence as her visitor worked. Her touch was gentle and sought to soothe rather than to bring discomfort. Her magic was calming as it seeped into her injuries.

"Your lips will remain sealed," Frigga informed her regretfully. "But I shall ease the pain as much as I can."

As the magic eventually receded, Y/N soon found herself missing its warmth and the comfort it brought. The desire to have access to her own magic had never been stronger.

"He wished for me to give you this," she said softly, reaching into the folds of her gown to produce a small roll of parchment.

It was tied with an emerald ribbon. The colour of his eyes.

Now sitting up against the wall, Y/N was hesitant to reach for it. She dared not appear too eager.

Seeing her hesitation, the Queen placed the small scroll in Y/N's trembling hands and enclosed them gently in her own. "I know not what it says. The words are meant for you and you alone."

Nodding, Y/N let her eyes drift to her hands and wrists circled with rune-carved metal. Frigga saw them too. And recognised them.

"I shall leave you now," Frigga whispered and smiled sadly at the startled look in the younger woman's eyes. "I know not when I shall return."

Y/N watched in fascination as her visitor faded before her eyes.

"Look at you," Bjorn remarked, "getting a visit from the Queen."

Y/N's eyes widened. That had been the Queen?! Her wide eyes drifted to the parchment she held. That had been his mother?

"You didn't know?"

She shook her head, her hands curling tighter around the parchment.

"You look a little stronger than before, must have been when she healed you," Bjorn murmured, his eyes tracing the angry red lines of Y/N's healed brand. Even the bruising around her mouth had gone, letting the cell's light catch on the metal threads.

Bound and silenced she was.

Praying that no guards would come her way, Y/N slid the ribbon from the parchment, tucking it safely out of sight. With trembling hands she unfurled the note and took a deep breath before steeling her resolve and allowing her eyes to settle on the neatly written words.

_" Y/N,_

_It is a coward's way to write instead of to speak, I know that. And what a coward I am for not speaking the truth to you when I had the chance. In truth, I have no right to ask anything of you, least of all your forgiveness. Your lies were not constructed out of spite or with the intent to harm. Yours were born out of the desire to protect one that was dear to you._

_Mine was not. There was nothing harmless about the words I spoke to you. Harsh and cruel they were, you did not deserve them. They were designed to protect no one but myself and this wretched heart of mine. They created a distance between us that I fear has become too great for either of us to cross._

_You saved my life, exposing yourself to danger and the ridicule of others. You did so despite the belief that you were nothing to me. You protected me even when it would have been easier to leave me behind. To the mercy of the enemy. You did all this while believing that you meant nothing to me, an object to be used and cast aside once it has outlived its usefulness._

_You gave this realm your life and imprisonment is how it repays you. In saving your life I was incredibly selfish. I needed you to keep breathing, to remain alive. My broken, tainted heart longed for the peace your very existence brought. It longs for it still and will for as long as I draw breath. I failed to protect you from my brother's ire and the Allfather's wrath, in my selfishness I brought upon you only more pain._

_I expect no reply from you, no matter how I might long for it. It is well within reason that you should despise me, hate me for the pain my words and actions have caused you. I do not deserve even the smallest smile from you, though I find myself wishing for it. The mark you gave me glimmers on my hand as I write these words. Seren wore your face, but she is not you. She was not real, you are. Oh what I would give for you to look at me as you did then. Eyes full of trust and silvery moonlight. A trust I repaid with nought but lies._

_If I had a sister, I would fervently hope that she would do for me what you have done for your brother. Your love for him spurred you to do this and in spite of everything, I cannot help the jealousy that wells up within me, I have no right to feel it. He is your brother, it is only natural that you should love him. Protect him. I have seen the lengths you will go to for those you love and I envy the one who will one day call you his._

_I will never forgive myself for the fear I saw in your eyes that night when I learnt of your true nature. You should never fear me. This agonising compulsion, this profane addiction I have for you alone is beyond even my control. It is I who fear you. A weakness I cannot afford and a succor I cannot be without._

_The lies I spoke to you were the only ones I have ever regretted speaking._

_Loki "_

Tears were coursing their way down her cheeks and fell silently onto the parchment she held, smudging the ink and making it run. Rolling the parchment back up, she bowed her head and held the letter close to her. Her shoulders heaved as she wept. The sounds harsh and rasping as they whistled through what spaces were left between her lips.

 _'I do not hate you,'_ she said silently, _'my heart will not allow me to do so.'_

Bjorn watched her silently. The changes in her expression while reading the letter had been minute. Now she curled in on herself and around the letter as though to protect it. Her shorn head bowed.

"Now now," said the unpleasant voice of a guard. "What have we here?"

Both Y/N and Bjorn looked up, the former retreating into the farthest corner of her cell, the letter hidden from sight.

"Looks like your mark has healed rather nicely," the guard sneered. "Been using magic have we?"

Y/N shook her head and refused to look up at him.

"Leave her be," Bjorn spoke up, standing against the barrier. "Can you not see the cuffs she wears? Her magic is restrained."

"Silence," the guard snarled, "this is no business of yours."

"She is injured and defenceless," Bjorn continued, his eyes hardening and his fists curling at his sides as the guard advanced further still on the cowering Y/N. "Have you not done enough?"

The guard smiled coldly. "The Allfather is not quite finished with her yet," hauling Y/N to her feet, he forced her to look at him. "He wishes to remind the people what happens to people like you. _Lygari."_

Her eyes widened in horror as she was dragged from the cell, she cast a desperate glace Bjorn's way. A silent plea. The panic and fear in her eyes had him launch himself against the barrier, slamming his fist into the golden shield. "Let her go," he snarled.

The guard simply laughed and clipped a chain to her shackles. "Move," he hissed at her, pulling her along behind him.

It was dark outside, save for strategically placed torches to guide those walking at night. Where they were headed, she could only guess. Her bare feet soon became bruised from the rough pathway and she found herself longing for the softness of grass, especially that which grew in the woods. Wild, untamed and soft.

The cold air bit at her exposed skin and her injured scalp and she sorely missed the warmth her hair had always provided, especially in winter. She felt exposed without it.

Soon the murmurings of a crowd found its way to her ears. The sound only grew louder and soon she saw where they were. The main courtyard of the palace. It seemed as though the whole city was there, somehow squashed into the confines of the courtyard.

Y/N felt her heart begin to race within her. Was she to be executed? Her palms felt clammy and her legs trembled beneath her, causing her to stumble, earning insults and sneers from the crowd.

When at last they came to a blessed halt, she saw a pillar stand before them. It was made of stone and came to her hips. From it hung shackles and chains, not unlike the ones she now wore.

"Kneel," her guard snarled, pushing her to her knees with bruising force. With gloved hands, he roughly pulled her arms forward as he secured her shackled wrists to the stone pillar.

"Citizens of Asgard," announced a voice she was all too familiar with. Daring to lift her head, she saw Prince Thor stand a short distance from the pillar, something long and dark in his hands. Her mouth went dry and her chest heaved. She knew what that was. "It is your King's wish to remind you of what should happen should you stand against the Crown. Should you dare to try and deceive us, as this woman has."

Her hands shook as she clenched them into fists, the cold air sending shivers down her spine as her back was exposed by a loud tear in her tunic's fabric.

"One hundred lashes," came a cry from the crowd.

"Two hundred," shouted another.

Tears burned behind her eyes and soon spilled down her cheeks. She had heard stories of floggings and the screams of the victims that were said to be heard for miles. Her heart raced within her and her blood rushed in her ears.

"Is it for me to determine the number," Thor said, silencing the crowd. "But rest assured that it will be of a severe amount."

His approaching footsteps were the only warning she received before the first strike landed. It stung and cut right through her skin. No scream came from her lips. Nothing more than a choked whimper.

Exiting the library, Loki was surprised to find the halls empty and void of even the softest murmurings. Curious, he made his way to the feasting hall, expecting to find it full of raucous laughter and the sounds of merriment. But it was empty. The tables had not been laid and there was not a soul in sight.

Narrowing his eyes, he went in search of his brother. Surely Thor would know what was going on.

His chambers were empty, as were the training grounds. Where in the Nine was everybody? The palace was near deserted and eerily quiet. All the courtiers were gone and the servants too. Even the slaves were nowhere to be seen.

The hallways were awash in golden light from the torches but no one save for him walked through them.

It was upon nearing the stables that he finally heard it. The faint sounds of a crowd. They seemed to be cheering for something. Turning on his heels, Loki followed the sounds. A sharp pain in his hand had him hiss softly and stop. Looking down, he saw the moon on his palm glimmer red and shine as fresh blood might.

Fear lanced its way through him. Clenching his fist, the Prince ran. The faster he ran, the louder the cheering became. Soon a crowd came into view as he neared the palace courtyard. They were gathered around something.

Caring not for them and only for who he feared was at the centre, Loki pushed through the crowd. Glares and looks of confusion were thrown his way, but he cared not. It was then that he heard another sound. The unmistakable crack of a whip as it struck flesh.

The sound sickened him as he fought his way through the throngs. At last he came to the fore and stumbled for shock of what he saw.

The ground beneath them was slick with blood, it splashed against Thor's boots and flecked his armour. The second figure was curled against the stone. Their shackled wrists shaking as their back heaved with each breath. Their back which was a horrific canvas of torn flesh and dripping blood.

"Y/N?" Loki whispered in horror and saw her lift her head. Her hair had been brutally cut short to expose her brand. Her eyes met his from across the courtyard, allowing him the full view of her sewn lips.

Thor it seemed, had not noticed his brother's arrival.

Then the next strike landed, causing her to clench her eyes shut and bow her head, falling limp against the pillar. A whimper broke free of his lips as he watched. He knew the pain of the whip and he would be damned if he allowed her to suffer a strike more.

Breaking free of the crowd, he ran to her and fell to his knees beside her.

"Brother?" Thor asked, lowering his arm that had been raised to deliver another blow. "What are you doing?" The crowd had gone silent the moment Loki had emerged.

"I should think it obvious," the younger Prince bit out as he rested a gentle hand atop her head. "Y/N?" He said softly, ignoring his brother completely. "My heart can you hear me?"

When no sound came from her, he moved to quickly release her bloodied wrists from the shackles. She would have fallen to the ground had he not caught her. Her blood covered his arms as he gently held her, her head falling against his chest.

"You cannot release her," Thor hissed, whip in hand. "These are father's orders."

Her chest rose and fell weakly and Loki was careful to avoid the wounds that covered the entire expanse of her back. "You have done quite enough." He replied, looking up to meet his brother's blue gaze. "Or would father have you flog her to death?" Rising to his feet, the Prince adjusted his hold on her, allowing his cloak to cover the worst of her injuries.

"You would dare to defy our father?" Thor demanded, thunder rumbling in the distance. "Your King?"

Unflinchingly, Loki looked his brother in the eye and nodded. "For her? In a heartbeat."

A shocked silence settled over the crowd as they took in the scene.

It was Thor who broke it. A look of disgust curled his lips. "By the Norns! You love her, don't you?" 

"More than my own life," came the reply. Raw and honest.

"Father will hear of this," Thor hissed. "Of your defiance and of your, 'feelings' for a traitor."

"I am certain he will," Loki said simply and turned, the crowd parting for him.

Calling his hammer to him, Thor discarded the whip and marched through the crowd, not following his brother but in search of his father.

Loki carried her swiftly, not to the healers, but to his own chambers, silently calling on his mother as he went. Y/N was silent in his arms, her breathing ragged. "Hold on my love," he whispered to her as they entered his chambers. "Hold on."

Frigga was not far behind, closing the doors behind her as she entered. "Loki?" She called.

"In here, mother," he called back, guiding the Queen to his bedchamber.

Frigga gasped in horror at the sight before her. "I shall not ask what happened," she murmured, approaching the bed where the young woman lay, her bloodied back facing them.

"Will you help me heal her?" Loki asked, a trembling hand reaching for her. "I fear I am not strong enough."

The Queen nodded and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Together," she said softly, smiling.

Every touch of their hands on her back brought a whimper from her sealed lips, a sound that had Loki flinching every time she made it. While one hand rested against her back, the other gently rested against her head, tracing soothing patterns in the short hair.

A loud knocking interrupted them and had their attention whip to the door.

"Stay here," Frigga whispered and held a finger to her lips before treading quietly from the room, closing the doors behind her.

Loki swore he had forgotten how to breathe as he listened to his mother speak with Odin and Thor. The hand that was on her back moved as if on its own and rested atop hers. His breath caught when he felt her take hold of his hand.

As she shifted slightly against the mattress, something fell to the pillows beneath her. His heart stopped when he saw what it was. A bloodstained parchment and small green ribbon.

His letter. She had read it.

His thoughts were brought to a halt at his mother's reappearance. "Mother?" He whispered urgently.

"They are searching for you both," Frigga replied in a hushed tone. "I have managed to throw them off for a while, but you must take her away from here."

Loki shook his head and glanced briefly down at Y/N, who now had a rather firm grip on his hand. "She is in no fit state to travel."

"I know," the Queen sighed. "But you must go, take her back to her home, to her family. They will protect her."

Swallowing thickly, the Prince nodded. "Very well."

Covering her partially healed back with his cloak and tucking it securely around her, Loki lifted her into his arms and followed his mother to the deserted servant's entrance. There in the small courtyard, a horse waited for them.

"Tallagor," he breathed upon recognition.

"Indeed," Frigga replied, "now be careful," she said as she helped Loki to mount while carrying Y/N. "The snake will guide you to her village."

"The snake?" Loki asked, confused.

"Indeed," came another voice from between Tallagor's ears. "Or did you think I would abandon her?" Jörmungandr popped his head up and rose to meet the Prince's gaze. 

"One more thing," Frigga said, coming to stand beside the horse. "Return to the palace once you have ensured her safety."

"What?" Loki asked, the word barely above a whisper. 

"She will be with her family," his mother reasoned. "They will care for her while you and I prevent your father and brother from finding her."

The light of the moon turned his tear-filled eyes to silver as he nodded stiffly. "Of course," he whispered. 

"Now go," Frigga said, stepping back. "Go."

Pressing a firm kiss to Y/N's forehead and holding her as close as he dared, Loki tightened his hold on Tallagor's reins and urged him into a gallop. 

As she watched them go, Frigga let one tear break free. She had seen his heart break at her request for his return. "Norns protect you," she whispered into the night. "May they protect you both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lygari = Liar
> 
> Translated from Icelandic.


	21. I will leave my heart with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I wait for you like a lonely house, till you see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

They rode long and hard and through the night. The light of the winter moon guided them along the deserted roads and forest paths and despite his thick cloak covering her, Loki curled himself around her, using his body as a shield against the harsh cold.

The dark landscape passed them by in a blur, muted shapes barely visible at night. And though his magic shielded them from any curious glances, Loki could not help but fear that pursuers were on their way.

The snow muffled the rhythmic pounding of Tallagor's hooves as he galloped across an open field, soon taking his mistress and the Prince into Asgard's largest forest. The trees loomed tall and dark all around them. The moon shone where it could and soon Loki was forced to summon a witchlight to guide them. The orb of white light hovered just ahead of them, enchanted to follow the galloping horse.

From his perch between Tallagor's ears, Jörmungandr gave silent directions, the horse changing direction when needed. The serpent's silver eyes would occasionally dart to where Y/N lay against the Prince. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing was shallow. He had not seen the injury done to her back, he was horrified enough by the brand and the metal stitches that silenced her. Guilt ate away at his conscience, he ought to have followed her into the palace that night, Varda had been furious upon learning of his cowardice. 

She looked so small against the Prince, so fragile. Not at all like the strong, stubborn woman he had become used to. A woman who would give her all to protect those she loved and respected. A woman who refused to give up, a trait that often landed her in trouble as much as her tongue would. A woman who would stand up to her fears and best them in a way that only she could. She had been broken, Jörmungandr could see that now. Though only imprisoned for three days, she looked as though it had been a century. The Y/N he knew was gone. The one the Prince held close was but a mere shell of her, an empty copy, a shade. 

A shift in the air tore Jörmungandr's attention back to the front. Fear skittered along his spine, he knew what this was. It appeared that Tallagor did too. The stallion slowed and eventually came to a complete standstill. 

Loki, for his part, was more than a little confused. "Tallagor," he whispered, "why have we stopped, what is it?" 

Jörmungandr answered on the horse's behalf. He answered with one word. "Mistress?"  


Her eyes shimmered to life first, shining as gently as new stars. The sight had Loki tighten his hold on Y/N, one arm holding her close, while the other tightened on the reins. 

Hair as dark as a moonless night flowed as though suspended in water around the slender form of a woman. Her skin resembled the night sky before dawn and the flowing fabric of her gown moved as though it had a mind of its own. 

She smiled softly, her dark lips curving delicately, yet her eyes held a sadness that Loki knew all too well. He had seen it in his mother's eyes once before. The pain of seeing her child wronged. 

Who was this woman that she should look at Y/N so?  _ "Nin hén," _ the woman whispered, sorrow weighing her words. 

Before Loki could so much as ask who she was, she turned her star-like gaze to him. "You know not who I am, yet you are known to me, my Prince. As is Y/N, whom you carry so very tenderly."

"Who are you?" Loki whispered, green eyes narrowed. 

"I am known by many names," she replied, her voice gentle and patient. "Elbereth Gilthoniel. The Star Queen. Varda Elentári-"

"Queen of the Valar," he breathed, narrowed eyes widening. He recalled reading of her and the remaining Valar, deities that elves like Y/N worshiped. Beings of immense power.

The woman, Varda nodded. "So you do know," she said kindly. "I thank you for tending to her," she said, looking down at Y/N. "For aiding her."

Loki merely nodded, unable to do much else. His heart was in his throat. "I could do little else," he replied, following her gaze, his own softening. 

"You have done more than those I entrusted her to, my Prince," Varda said, her eyes hardening for a brief moment as they glanced at Jörmungandr, who had failed in his attempt to hide from her. 

"I did what was right."

"Indeed," she replied, turning her attention back to him and Y/N. "But you must be careful, for you carry her heart in your hands."

"I'm sorry?" Loki asked, his voice trembling at the edges. 

Varda smiled sadly. "The way you hold her now, was how she held you in that cave. Close to her heart while she invoked us. Begging for us to come and aid where her strength had failed. Her cry reached the stars, piercing the heavens."

"What?" The Prince whispered in disbelief. 

"Never had I heard a cry so desperate," Varda continued. "So filled with pain that I felt it too. And so I went and when I saw her there, with you in her arms, her face buried in your shoulder and begging for help, I knew."

"Knew what?" 

"The reason for her entreaty," Varda explained. "But I believe it would be best, if you saw for yourself." With those words, she reached out and lay a gentle hand on his that held the reins. 

Loki gasped softly as the scene changed before him and he was back in that cave. 

_His prone and unconscious form lay before a kneeling Y/N._ _She was close to weeping as she lifted her gaze to the night sky. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Beleg Valar vedui- na nin. Lav- ya bel Na- chil innin-" a small whimper from him caused her words to falter and pull him close to her, the tears finally spilling over as her voice broke. "Dui na hon," she pleaded. With a choked gasp she buried her face in his shoulder, her next words muffled. "Nin cuil. Meleth nin."_

"What did she say?" Loki whispered as his eyes remained fixed on her.  


"Almighty Valar listen to me. Allow what strength is left in me to flow to him," Varda replied and paused for a moment before continuing, her voice softer. "My life and my love."

"Her love?" Loki repeated quietly, eyes fixed on her weeping figure as she clutched him close to her.

Varda simply nodded and watched silently as the scene unfolded, as heartwrenching as it had been the first time. 

_ Varda did not appear to her, but merely spoke, allowing her to know her presence.  _

_ "I am not strong enough," Y/N whimpered, the sound breaking his heart. "I am not-" _

_ "Hush," said a soft voice, "you have already given so much. Tell me, why invoke us?" _

_ It was a while before she answered, but when she did, it was in a voice he had never heard before. It was raw and honest and unbearably tender. "Melinyes," she said simply.  
_

_ A sigh as soft as a breeze passed through the cave. "Even if it is not returned?" Varda sounded terribly sad as she asked that question.  _

_ Y/N nodded and ducked her head. Her next words tore his heart right from his chest. "I can live in a world where he does not love me. But I cannot live in a world where he is not." _

"What was her reason?" Loki asked, fighting tears of his own as his voice trembled with emotion.  


"Melinyes," Varda replied softly. "I love him."

With a soft gasp, he looked down to Y/N. The tears he had been fighting finally broke free. "If my soul had been cut in half at birth," he whispered, lips pressed to her crown. "It would have gone to you." 

"Her village is not far," Varda said softly, gaining the Prince's attention. 

Loki nodded stiffly and swiped his tears away. "I see." 

"It is very nearly dawn," Varda continued, "her family will soon rise, you must arrive before the village wakes. Her suffering has been great enough."

With Jörmungandr muttering directions in Tallagor's ear, the soft lights of a settlement soon warmed the wintry landscape. Varda had faded back to the stars with a promise to watch over her. 

The village was still sound asleep as they entered it. Loki had murmured a spell to silence Tallagor's hooves, thus allowing their arrival to go unnoticed. 

It was not long until the stallion came to a halt before an Apothecary. 

"Her family lives above," Jörmungandr explained, swiveling around to look Loki in the eye. "Her mother is the village healer."

Simply nodding, Loki dismounted, cradling Y/N closer than before. Tallagor waited patiently as the Prince approached the door and knocked as quietly as he could with his booted feet. The soft sound rattled the wooden door and was evidently loud enough to warrant a candle being lit in the living quarters above. Soft muffled voices grew steadily louder, accompanied by the shuffle of feet before the door was swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman holding a candle with one hand and a shawl in the other. 

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of a Prince standing at the threshold. But before she could so much as curtsy, Loki stepped a little closer. "Is Y/N Hrókrdóttir your daughter?" He asked, his tone hushed and urgent.

The woman nodded, a little frazzled by his appearance out of seemingly nowhere. "Yes, she is Your Highness but-"

"I have her," he cut her off and nodded to the woman in his arms. 

The woman stared at him as though he were speaking another language. "We have not seen her in weeks Sire, how did you-?"

"Allow me to enter and I shall explain everything," he interrupted her, growing impatient. The sun was very close to beginning its ascension into the sky. 

Nodding quickly, she stepped aside and closed the door behind him. "Follow me upstairs Sire, my son and mother-in-law have also woken and will want to hear your tale."

Staying silent, Loki followed her up the narrow flight of stairs that soon opened up to a modest living area. Around a rickety kitchen table sat an older woman and a young man, a staff resting against the table. 

At the sight of the Prince, the young man stood as best he could and bowed low, using the table as an aid. 

_'Her crippled brother,'_ Loki thought to himself as he nodded to the young man. 

"Your Highness," he said, "what brings you to our humble home so far from the Capital?" 

"Your sister," Loki replied. 

"Y/N?" The young man whispered and looked to his mother and then back to the Prince. "Have you news of her?" 

"Better," came the reply as Loki once more nodded to Y/N, her eyes still closed. 

Limping rather heavily, the young man hesitantly approached the Prince and peered at the bundle he carried and gasped softly. "Mother, grandmama?" 

The two woman followed close behind and covered their mouths with their hands. "Whatever happened to her?" The older woman asked, her eyes beginning to shine with tears. 

"Before I answer," Loki replied, "might a bed be available?" 

The young man nodded quickly, "of course Sire, please, follow me."

When at last her head lay against the soft pillow, Loki turned to her family. "She has been branded as a traitor, as you can well see. The Allfather saw fit to have it done after the Crown Prince discovered her true identity."

"True identity?" Her brother asked softly. 

Loki nodded. "Your sister cast an illusion to alter her appearance to that of a man so that she might join the ranks of the army." Pausing, he met her brother's gaze. "On your behalf."

"But surely that is not treason?" Her grandmother protested. "She did nothing wrong."

Loki shook his head. "The Allfather did not see it that way. In his eyes and in the eyes of the Crown Prince, she deceived us and impersonated another."

"But her lips?" Her mother asked in a strangled whisper. 

"Every word of hers was a lie to them," Loki replied, clenching his fists beneath his coat. After a momentary pause, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "The Queen has managed to heal the injuries done to her face. Unfortunately we were interrupted as we were healing those on her back."

The trio before him exchanged a look of confusion. 

"On her back?" Her mother finally asked and Loki nodded. 

"She was flogged," he replied, the family gasping at his words. "As an example to those who might do as she did."

"But she did nothing wrong!" Her brother exclaimed. 

"Do you think I do not know that?" Loki hissed, his seidr dancing in his eyes. "She saved this realm and she was branded for it. Branded, chained and whipped like an animal. The ground was slick with her blood by the time I fought my way there. She had gone unconscious from the pain and simply hung there. Had I not intervened when I did-" he stopped and gathered his composure. "My dear brother would have no doubt flogged her to death."

"You saved her?" The grandmother breathed, eyes wide as she regarded the towering Prince. "Why?"

"My reasons are not important," he replied. "What _is_ important is that she is kept out of sight. The Allfather will no doubt send guards to search for her. You must be prepared."

The family nodded. Her brother leaned heavily on his staff that he had brought from the kitchen. 

As Loki passed them by, her mother followed him and accompanied him back to the Apothecary door. "We cannot thank you enough for bringing her here Sire," she said, one hand resting on the door. 

Loki smiled faintly and nodded. "This is her home. It is where she belongs."

"How can we ever thank you?" 

"Do not tell her it was me," he said, stubbornly ignoring the pain in his chest. "Tell her whatever story you must. Only that it was not me who brought her here."

"But why?" Her mother asked confused. "Why should she not know?" 

The Prince closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. "She cannot know," he whispered, hating himself for the words. "She must never know. It will be easier that way."

Helena saw it. The soul-wrenching agony in his eyes as he looked at her. For a Prince that was known to have little to no emotion, he was showing a great deal now. "You love her."

He did not even bother to deny it. "Allow her to believe I abandoned her," he said instead, his heart breaking with every word. "Allow her to hate me for it, curse me even. But do not tell her I saved her. That I love her," his voice cracked on the last words, prompting him to swing open the door and step out into the cold. 

"By why?" Helena called softly after him. 

"Because she would not believe you," Loki replied and mounted Tallagor. Without a second glance backwards, he left the village, leaving only his heart wrapped in an emerald cloak.

Before the village faded completely, Loki pulled on Tallagor's reins, halting him. With tears in his eyes, he whispered, _"hjarta mitt mun gráta uns það sér þig aftur."_

~ ~ ~  


"If he has no part to play in this," Odin thundered, "then where is he?" 

"I sent him on an errand," Frigga explained, and not for the first time. "I have told you this before."

"Indeed you have, but I am finding it most difficult to believe."

Frigga sighed, the throne room echoed her husband's words all too clearly. "You are always so quick to lay blame where it is easiest. On Loki."

"Because he often is at fault."

Frigga glared at the back of her husband's head. "Isn't it time you stopped treating him that way?" 

"What way?"

"Your scapegoat for whenever something goes awry." 

"Thor saw him," Odin replied, turning at last to face her. "He saw Loki release her and take her away."

"And you believe him? Just like that? What if the positions were reversed?" Frigga demanded. "What if it was Thor? What would your reaction be then?" It was widely known that while the Queen greatly loved both Princes, she favoured the younger. "Would you convict and lay blame as quickly as you are now?" 

Any reply Odin would have made was silenced as the great doors swung open and Loki strode in. Moved like a cat he did, each step calculated before being taken. Behind him trailed Thor, a mutinous glare aimed at his younger brother. 

"Speaking of me behind my back?" Loki asked, halting a few steps away from the King and Queen. " _Father?"_

"Your brother has informed me of all that transpired," Odin began and made his way to the throne. Upon sitting down, he continued. "That you intervened in the punishment of a traitor and released her. Is this true?"  


Loki narrowed his eyes at the older man and simply smiled. Thin and sharp. "If you wished to have her flogged to death, you need only have told me and I would stepped aside to let justice prevail." 

"Do not play me for a fool _Laufeyson_ ," Odin snarled, making Frigga gasp and Loki flinch. "I was informed that you admitted to harbour feelings for this traitorous woman. Is this true?" 

All pleasantries faded, pretended or otherwise. "Is it really so hard to believe that I could love someone?" Loki hissed. "That my heart is not as black and poisoned as you believe it to be? That the Norns have given me a chance to truly redeem myself? Something I have tried for centuries to do and yet have always failed."

Frigga made to go to him but was stopped by a pleading look from her youngest. 

Loki looked back to Odin. "Nothing I do will ever satisfy you. Nothing will ever be enough, will it?" 

An agonising silence passed before Odin replied with a soft, "no."

"At least you admit to it," Loki said, clenching his jaw in a visible effort to maintain his composure. "Any effort I make from now, it will not be for you or for the good of Asgard. It will be for _her."_

"A traitor falling for a traitor," Odin murmured, "how poetic."  


Not wasting a second more, Loki turned on his heels and swept from the hall. The moment he was alone in his chambers, he tore off his coat and tunic, leaving his chest bare. Looking down, he raised a trembling hand and traced the brand that scarred the centre of his chest. Now she bore one too, all because he had been too selfish to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nin hén = My child.  
> (Translated from the Sindarin)
> 
> Hjarta mitt mun gráta uns það sér þig aftur = My heart shall weep until it sees thee again.  
> (Translated from the Icelandic)


	22. The soul's voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill

Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. But wait, why was the ground beneath her so soft? Forcing her eyes open, Y/N blinked against the soft light. The white walls of her cell were not what greeted her, but the familiar walls of her home. Blinking again, she was surprised to find that the image stayed. Had they driven her to hallucinate now? Cast some cruel spell that would shatter only when she grew to accept it?

She was lying on her side, facing the window. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Y/N gasped softly when she felt the wood of her nightstand brush against her fingers. It was much too real. Mustering what strength she had, she made to stand, but fell as soon as her feet touched the ground. Blinding pain blazed along her back as she doubled over, a cry whimpering from between her sealed lips. Raising a hand, she gingerly touched her mouth and the stitches that lay there. The metal felt smooth, too smooth for something so cruel.

Movement from behind her had her scramble away as best she could, tears pricking in her eyes at the pain her movements caused.

Vídarr paused at the door, staff in hand. Y/N was awake, nearly a week after the Prince had brought her to them. But there she was, cowering in the corner of her own room, covering her face and shaking.

Choosing to say nothing, he lay his staff on the bed before crossing the room to kneel before her, his crippled leg protesting as he did so. "Y/N?" He said softly. "Sister?"

Shaking her head, she remained as she was.

Reaching out, he lay a gentle hand on her wrist, noting grimly the faint bruising and healing cuts, caused no doubt by shackles. "Y/N," he tried again, almost whispering. "It's me, Vídarr."

Slowly, she lowered her hands and looked to him. Vídarr was sure he would never get used seeing her mouth so cruelly closed. There was fear in her eyes and pain, so much pain. And there, the smallest amount of hesitation and it was this that broke him. Her eyes said what her mouth could not. "This is all real," he said softly and smiled. "This no dream, you are home."

_"You are home."_ Three words that she thought never to hear again. Words she desperately wanted to believe.

"You do not believe me, do you?" Vídarr sighed, his heart clenching painfully. "This is not an illusion," he continued, his eyes pleading with her. "How am I to make you believe that this is real?"

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving him.

"Perhaps mother will be able to help," he murmured.

A sound came from her then, a pitiful noise that sounded as though she were desperately trying to say, "mother?" The sound brought tears to Vídarr's eyes.

So, he nodded.

As though called, Helena appeared by the door and startled them both.

The sound came from Y/N again as she caught sight of the elder woman and her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. Helena heard it and gasped softly. Crossing the room, she knelt before her daughter. Vídarr moved back to allow them a little space.

With gentle hands, she cupped her daughter's face. It was so changed and yet, she would know her anywhere. "My beautiful girl," she whispered, voice heavy with emotion.

The tears she had been holding back came flooding down her cheeks as she leaned into her mother's touch. _'Please let this be real,'_ she thought desperately. She was sure she would go mad if it were not.

"But why are you here, on the floor?" Helena asked softly, "why are you not in bed? Your wounds have not yet healed."

Her wounds. The flogging. It all came back to her in a painful flood. How had she come to be at home? Who had brought her there?

"Can you stand?" Helena asked gently and when Y/N shook her head, she slowly helped her to her feet. Y/N leaned heavily on her, her head coming to rest on her mother's shoulder as Helena's arm wrapped around her daughter's waist. 

This, this felt real and she was willing to accept it, illusion or no.

The moment Y/N lay on her side on the bed, Helena knelt so as to be eye-level with her and lay a gentle hand on her daughter's unmarked cheek. "I will return soon," she murmured. "Your movements have opened your wounds, I shall need to redress them."

Y/N nodded weakly.

"Vídarr will be here with you," Helena continued and motioned for her eldest to join them by the bed. "He will remain with you until I return." With those words, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's forehead and smiled softly before standing and sweeping from the room.

True enough, Vídarr came and sat on the bed by her legs.

Reaching out with a trembling hand, Y/N touched her brother's hand, hesitantly taking hold of it.

With what could only be described as a relieved sigh, Vídarr accepted his sister's searching touch and took hold of her hand and smiled down at her. "I'm here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Y/N smiled as best she would, wincing as her lips lifted a fraction, pulling on the stitches.

"I hope to the Valar that we shall find a way to rid you of those," Vídarr said lowly, his gaze fixed on the metal stitches.

Helena soon returned, a bundle of bandages in her arms and a pot of healing salve. Motioning for Vídarr to help her, she moved Y/N to sit up, her back to her mother. Gently lifting the nightdress Y/N wore, Helena grimaced at the sight of the bloodied bandages and begun to peel them away before cleaning the wounds and reapplying the salve.

The coolness of the ointment soothed the gashes left by the whip and though they still stung, the pain was much less than what it had been.

With fresh bandages secured and the nightdress back in place, Helena urged her daughter to lay down once more. Moving to sit on the bed beside her, she took the hand Vídarr had been holding before he had left.

"I cannot tell you how relieved we were upon your return," Helena said quietly and smiled down at her daughter, who was looking up at her with confusion in her e/c eyes. "A palace guard left you here," she explained. "We know not why."

This confused Y/N. There had been no guards at the palace that had ever given her a sympathetic glance or even looked at her twice before curling their lips in disgust.

"As soon as you are well enough to stand and walk on your own," Helena was saying, "we shall see about a way to remove that horrid thread from your lips."

However, as Helena made to leave, a trembling hand curled around her wrist. Upon looking down, she saw that it was Y/N. Y/N who was looking up at her with fragile hope in her usually bright eyes. Eyes that now barely bore a spark. Through her ruined mouth she seemed to say, "stay?" Yet it came out as one of the most pitiful sounds Helena had ever heard.

Nodding, she settled back down, sitting to face her daughter and rested a gentle hand on her head, her thumb tracing soothing patterns. "I have missed you," she whispered. "We all have. Everyday we prayed to the Valar that you would be kept safe. It seems they have heard our prayer, to some extent at least. You are here with us."

~ ~ ~

Tallagor snuffled impatiently in his stall by the time Loki found his way there. The stable master had reluctantly let the stallion in, muttering under his breath at how the new addition would upset the other horses.

Approaching the stallion, Loki rested a gentle hand on his muzzle. "She is safe now," he said, "safe with those that raised her. By family." Tallagor shuffled a little and nudged the Prince as though to reassure him.

It had been almost a week since he had seen her last. A week without knowing how she was progressing. Any thought to write to the family was soon crushed by the memory of the promise he had elicited from her mother.

"Why did I do that?" He murmured to the horse standing before him. "Why did I allow my head to speak for my heart?"

Tallagor nickered and gently butted his head against Loki's palm.

"I know," the Prince sighed and rested his forehead against Tallagor's. "I will do all that I can to keep her safe," lifting his head, he looked into one of Tallagor's eyes. "We must work together so that when it is time, you may return to her when she calls."

Neither knew when that would be.

Asgard was rebuilding itself after the Dark elf attack and was slowly rising back onto its feet.

"In any case," came another voice, "you will be needing me." Following the words, a black and silver serpent slithered into view. Both Prince and horse looked down at him, the former raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"And how might you be of any service?" Loki asked, folding his arms. "Were you not a member of her familial guardians?" 

Jörmungandr stared up at him before narrowing his eyes and flicking out his tongue. "And how would you know of such a thing?" 

"You would be astonished at the things I know about you and your kind," the Prince replied. "Now answer the question."

The snake nodded before winding himself around a nearby rake. "I was never supposed to even be here," he admitted reluctantly. "But to answer the question, I was once, yes."

Loki merely hummed, his answer giving nothing away.

"Go to her."

"I'm sorry?" Loki asked, looking down at the serpent in surprise.

"I said, go to her," Jörmungandr replied.

"I cannot, not after the promise I coaxed from her mother."

Jörmungandr rolled his eyes and sighed. "She does not have to see you. Merely go close enough without being spotted." 

When the Prince gave nothing in way of answer, Jörmungandr continued. "Disguise yourself if you must."

"Why not go yourself?" Loki demanded. 

"Because." Jörmungandr replied. "It was not I who risked the life he had known to save her. To intervene in the unjust punishment. I have no right to even speak her name after I have failed her so tremendously." 

"No," Loki murmured, turning away from the horse and the serpent. "I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?" Jörmungandr asked, leaning forward a fraction. 

"If I go," the Prince began and took a deep breath before casting his eyes up to the stable ceiling. "And I should lay eyes on her, it will only make it harder for me to leave her again."

"So you're being selfish?" 

Loki spun 'round and glared at the serpent. "How dare you speak to me of selfishness?" He hissed, the air around them crackling. "When it was you who left her." 

Jörmungandr was silenced in the face of the Prince's fury. He was correct of course. And that stung. Almost as much as Varda's warnings should he fail Y/N again.   


"I will not go to her," Loki said again. "For I should risk her life in doing so. And knowing she is alive is more precious to me than fulfilling my desire to see her."

With a final goodbye to Tallagor, he swept from the stables and made for his chambers, only to be stopped by no one other than his dear brother. Thor loomed over him, eclipsing what little sun had managed to shine its way through the persistent winter clouds. 

Folding his arms, Loki gave his brother a cursory glance before raising an expectant eyebrow. "Clearly there is something you wish to say to me, or else you would not have blocked my path."

Thor waited a moment before speaking. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

"So I had surmised," Loki replied, sighing. "And what might it be?" 

"Come with me." 

Wary of his brother's actions, he followed the older Prince through the maze of corridors that made up the Aesir palace. It confused the younger Prince when they came to a halt before the doors that led to his suite of rooms. 

When he entered however, he realised the trap too late. A sharp gasp tore from him as he felt it. It was sharp and it burned as the sun in Summer. Falling to his knees, he clutched his head and groaned as another wave washed over him, ripping his magic away. 

His eyes were shot through with blood as they looked to Thor. "What have you done?" He gasped out. 

Regret stained Thor's blue eyes as he regarded his brother. "It had to be done, Loki. It was the only way."

Struggling to his feet, Loki made for the door but found himself unable to leave. "Thor.." he warned, his voice dropping into a low warning despite the discomfort he was in.

"A ward," Thor explained, looking down at his feet. "Father cast it," finally he looked back up, "you will not be able to leave."

"Why?" He hissed, one hand reaching out to rest on the wall for support. 

"Because you would have hindered us and thwarted our plans at every turn." 

Then Loki laughed. It was a tired sound, weary and heavy. "You think you will succeed?" 

Thor nodded and met his brother's gaze. "Father wants you there when she is found and brought back. He wishes for you to watch."

Loki swallowed hard. A part of him knew where this was headed and still he fought against it. "Watch what exactly?" 

There was a flash of grief in Thor's eyes before it vanished completely. "Her execution."

Loki stumbled away from him, his breath tearing from him. "Of course he would wish that," he snarled, "and still you call him honourable. Noble even." 

"Brother please-"

"I am _not your brother,"_ Loki spat, "so do not speak to me as if we were equals. For tell me this, Thor, beloved of Odin and Asgard. Would you merely and meekly stand by while the only woman to have captured your heart was murdered right before your eyes?" 

Thor silently shook his head. 

"Then do not expect _me_ to." The words were forced out from behind clenched teeth and when Thor met his gaze, he did not see anger there. But pure, raw and devastatingly real heartbreak. 

~ ~ ~ 

Sleep would not come to her, no matter how hard she tried. And yet, it was not the pain in her back that kept sleep at bay. No, it was something far deeper. 

The feeling of her mother's hand in her own was a comforting one and one she wished never to relinquish. 

"Guilt has no place within you," Helena was saying softly to her son. Y/N's eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell steadily, giving the appearance of sleep. Her body, as broken as it was, needed all the rest it could possibly be given. "What is done is done. Your sister is home, that is all that matters now." 

"But what of what he said?" Vídarr murmured, twisting his hands in his lap. "Of what they did to her because of-"

"No," Helena cut him off firmly. "I will not allow you to wallow in self pity and self loathing. Yes, I heard him as well as you. It was your sister's choice to go, you did not force her to."

Vídarr shook his head. 

"There we are then," Helena replied, sounding satisfied. "We must focus on the present and help her to heal."

"But what of her mouth?" 

"We will find a way." 

Mother and son settled into a comfortable silence before a soft knocking sounded on the chamber's door frame and the grandmother peeked inside. Helena and Vídarr looked at her in confusion. "What is it?" Vídarr whispered. 

"Guards," came the reply. "At the door."

Helena swore under her breath. "He told me this would happen."

"He told us all," Vídarr said, earning a strange look from his mother. 

"Stay with her," Helena instructed her eldest. "I will handle the guards." With those words, she gently untangled her hand from Y/N's and kissed her forehead before sweeping from the room. 

Taking his mother's place, Vídarr took his sister's hand and smiled sadly before looking to his grandmother who had now fully entered the room and was sitting on the opposite side of the bed. 

"Will she ever find out, I wonder?" He murmured. 

The grandmother shrugged and sighed softly. "Only time will tell."

"Did you see the way he looked at her though," Vídarr continued. "As he was leaving?" 

His grandmother nodded. "Aye, I did. The boy has fallen and fallen hard."

Vídarr nodded and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "He helped her and yet he does not wish for her to know.." he trailed off, shaking his head. 

"You know why, your mother told us."

"But why wouldn't she believe us?"

His grandmother merely shrugged. "I wish I knew my boy, I wish I knew."

Her brother's words brought definition to the pain that now robbed her of her sleep. It brought meaning and perhaps even a little hope. _'Loki?'_ She thought and sighed inwardly. 

Vídarr jerked slightly and looked to his grandmother who was looking at Y/N with wide eyes. 

"You heard it too?" He whispered. 

The older woman nodded slowly. 

"I have never heard her speak like that," Vídarr said softly, staring at his sister in shock. 

"That is because that voice," their grandmother explained, "came from the depths of her very being."

"Is it possible that she also?"

"Maybe, maybe not," the grandmother replied. "We do not know the history between them."

"Something terrible must have happened for him to make such a request," Vídarr murmured thoughtfully. 

"And she will tell us," the grandmother said, looking to her granddaughter. "When she is good and ready." 


	23. Between the lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends are the only escape we have from ourselves. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

"I cannot believe that for one moment I believed you would be able to do this," Varda fumed as she paced the length of the family shrine.

Jörmungandr was sure he had never seen her this angry. Such occurrences were rare. The usually calm and reserved Queen of the Valar was furious. Hers was a quiet anger, she did not shout or curse or throw things. No. In some ways Jörmungandr would have preferred it. Her silent fury had the snake curl in on himself, not daring even for a moment to look her way. 

Varda's eyes that usually shone and twinkled like stars, were harder than ice and crueler than any curse. "You were sent to fulfill but a simple task," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Her midnight hair flowed around her like an angry storm cloud. 

"But she is returned, is she not Mistress?" Jörmungandr ventured timidly. 

"Aye," she replied mockingly, "but not how she was. Not safely."

"I tried Mistress."

"But not hard enough," Varda hissed. "A few simple words from her and the tide turned for you. You ought to have tried _harder_ Jörmungandr. Not given up entirely." 

Jörmungandr sighed and nodded.  


"Now one of the Princes of the realm is endangered," she continued, throwing her hands up into the air. "All because of-"

"Me," the serpent finished in a small voice. "But in all fairness Mistress, it was his choice to intervene."

"That it may have been," Varda relented. "But that does not aid in the fact that you were not there. Not when she needed you most."

"Yes Mistress," he whispered. 

"I want you to remain with her," Varda said, coming to a halt and folding her arms. "At least until she has forgiven you. You will not leave her side for a moment, do you understand? You will go where she goes and protect her if necessary. You will make up for what you did and did not do. Have I made myself clear?" 

"As crystal, Mistress."

"Very well, now go."

~ ~ ~ 

He felt it long before Fandral made a comment of it. His brother's piercing glare as they passed through the gardens by his rooms. Looking up to where his friend's words indicated, Thor swallowed and quickly looked away again. He did not agree with their father's method, at least not this time. Leaving Loki powerless would only cause his vengeance to grow. 

"If looks could kill," the blond warrior beside him muttered, his friends murmuring in low agreement. 

"Your father must be very certain if he sending you," Volstagg commented. 

"It is nothing for certain," Thor replied, relieved once they had left the gardens. 

"Maybe if her horse were set loose," Hogun murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would lead us to where she is hiding."

"That has been attempted," Thor said, "but the creature will not move. It is as stubborn as any donkey. The stable master has reported that it listens to but one person. My brother."

The Warriors Three exchanged a glance. 

"It surprises me as much as it does you, my friends," Thor murmured as they neared the stables where stable-hands were readying the respective horses. 

Upon nearing the stables, the four companions were soon made aware of a commotion taking place within. Curious, they quickened their pace and saw the stable master struggling to calm a rather agitated horse. A beautiful bay stallion. 

Tallagor. 

The horse was rearing in his stall and neighing loudly, the stable master's attempts were falling on deaf ears. The horse's ears were flattened back against its head the moment all four feet touched back down. 

"Easy there boy," the stable master crooned in a low voice and began to approach the animal once more. 

Tallagor was having none of it. Lowering his head the slightest amount, he pinned the stable master with both eyes and began to sway his head back and forth. His mistress had elicited a promise from him, and it was one he intended to keep. 

The stable master's eyes widened at the stallion's actions and began to slowly back away from the stall. There was but one course of action and one that he would not lightly take. Turning from the stall, he did not appear to recognise the presence of the Prince and his companions. 

Thor watched in mute astonishment as the stable master returned with a crossbow. Bolts of iron had already been lodged into place and the bowstring sat taut and ready for release. 

One of the stable hands approached him. "Sir, are you certain this is wise. If his Highness discovers this..."

"Then we shall tell him," the stable master replied and with no small amount of trepidation approached Tallagor's stall. 

"I will not wish to be in your shoes Sir," the stable hand muttered under his breath before attending to his other tasks. 

Tallagor's eyes widened upon seeing the weapon. Such an instrument required the wielder to be within close range for the killing shot. Staying deceptively still, he waited until the man neared him and waited until he was closer still, the weapon raised and ready to fire. 

Then, without warning, he reared up, his right foreleg dislodging the weapon and causing the bolt to fire and lodge itself firmly into the wall behind him. In addition to striking the weapon away, Tallagor's hoof had made painful contact with the stable master's arm, snapping it clean in two. Neighing loudly, the stallion ignored the man's cry of pain and shook his head wildly, snapping the ropes and fetters that held him in place. 

Stepping back just in time, Thor and the Warriors Three watched as the stable hands gave chase. The horse was a swift runner and soon left his pursuers behind. 

Rushing to the aid of the injured stable master, Thor knelt by his side. "You must see the healers," he said, his tone brokering no argument. 

"That damned horse," the stable master grunted and hissed in pain as he cradled his broken limb. 

"Rest assured it will be found and returned," Thor promised and silently hoped that they would find the animal before his brother found out. 

"I could not care less for it," the man replied as they left the stables behind. "It is more trouble that it is worth. Today was the worst. Something spooked him bad. Nothing I did would calm him." 

Thor hummed in soft reply as they entered the healing rooms. Healers soon swarmed around them and swept the injured man away as soon as Thor had relayed the incident to them. 

Upon tracing his way back to the stables, Thor stopped when he heard a voice. Soft, reassuring and very familiar. It was his brother's voice. Stopping at the garden's threshold, the Prince believed his mind was playing tricks on him. 

The horse stood below his brother's balcony while Loki knelt at the threshold, unable to go any further. 

"I will be alright," the younger Prince assured the horse in soothing tones. "Soon I will be free of this cage, just you wait."

The horse nickered and snuffled lightly in response, making Loki smile sadly. "You must return I fear. They will take you away should they see you here." 

Tallagor shook his head, his mane swaying with his movements and pawed lightly at the palace walls. 

"We will see her again," Loki swore softly, frustrated beyond measure that he could not touch the animal and physically reassure him. "I know not when it will be, but we will. But now you must go, dear friend. Go before they take you from me as well." 

With what sounded like a reluctant huff, Tallagor neighed softly before doing as the Prince asked. 

Thor watched his brother as the horse trotted from the garden. 

"You need not look so surprised," Loki called to him, startling the elder Prince. 

Moving to stand beneath his brother's window, Thor looked up and met Loki's emerald gaze. A striking green they were and held nothing of the warmth he had displayed towards the horse. Loki had risen and stood at his full height. 

"Have you come to gloat?" 

Thor shook his head. "No," he said softly. "Father has received reports and I have been sent to substantiate them."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Those who do not wish to be found, never are," he replied. "Your father can search all he likes and he will send you out like a hound on the hunt, only to be disappointed at every turn."

The calm delivery of those words sent a chill down the elder Prince's spine. 

"The wards that keep me here will fall," Loki promised softly, never once breaking eye contact with Thor. "You mark my words, Odinson."

"Is that a threat?" Thor growled, adjusting his grip on his hammer. 

The smiled he sent was thin and sharp. "It is a promise," he replied before turning on his heels and disappearing back into his chambers. 

~ ~ ~

She was awake when he saw her again, wide awake and looking out the window as though she had never seen the likes of snow before.

He was not entirely sure how best to approach her. The last they had spoken had been when he was a horse and she was still a free, unhunted woman. Her lips were still sealed and the brand stood out in angry red lines on her cheek, drawing attention to the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks.

Her name it seemed, would be the best way to start. "Y/N?" He whispered.

Slowly she turned, as though afraid of what she might find. Her e/c eyes widened upon seeing him. Yet she did nothing as he slithered closer. And closer still until he was wrapped around one of the bedposts by her legs.

"I suppose now is a good a time as any to apologise," Jörmungandr said quietly and sighed with relief when she did not turn away. The look in her eyes was a blank one, as though she did not quite understand why he was there. 

"I let my pride stand in the the way of my oath to protect you," the snake continued and ducked his head in a show of humility. "And I know that there is nothing in all the nine realms that will make up for what I failed to do."

When he next looked to her, she was looking at him with something akin to pity in her eyes. An emotion that confused him. "You bare now the consequences of my failures." At his words she shook her head. After a brief moment and with trembling hands, she reached out. 

Unable to believe what he was seeing, Jörmungandr stayed where he was. 

Making a noise of impatience, Y/N made to lean forward on the bed but winced at her movements. 

Seeing the tears in her eyes at the obvious pain caused by her movements, Jörmungandr realised what she wanted. Unwinding himself, the serpent slithered towards her and wound himself around her outstretched arms. 

For a brief moment, he believed she was trying to smile. 

"I do not expect your forgiveness," he whispered. "In truth I am surprised you even want to look at me."

Y/N shook her head slightly and sighed, the sound coming from the back of her throat. With her free hand, she gently stroked his head. 

"You look terrible by the way."

At his remark, something resembling a chuckle bubbled up from her throat, but did not quite make it past her lips. 

_ "I missed you." _

Jörmungandr looked to her with wide eyes. "Did you just-?"  


Y/N nodded, a triumphant glimmer in her eyes. 

"Well," he said, slithering up her arm to nestle against her neck and collarbone. "I missed you too."


	24. The threads of truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is the mystery of water and a star. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

The shield's golden light reflected off the cavern's walls and danced on the fabric of her gown. Standing a short distance from the orb, Frigga looked up at it and sighed. Great power had been used to restore it and bring safety back to the realm. The power of one who was now sought for, not to thank and honour her. No. To be brought to justice for something she was not.

Stepping closer still, the Queen reached out a hand and felt the pulse of the shield against her palm. The pulse of a heart. _Her_ heart. She had given her life until Loki had brought her back. Ascending to the second stone step, Frigga's eyes caught on something.

Canting her head to the side, she knelt and saw that it was a sword. A great-sword with a pommel of an elegant design. It bore no gems or inlays of precious metals. No, this appeared to be made from a singular piece of metal. A style the Light Elves of Alfheim were known for. Weapons that were as lethal as they were beautiful. No one Frigga knew carried a sword such as this. Thor had his hammer and Loki, his knives. The Warriors Three all bore their distinctive weapons. That left only one.

Reaching out, Frigga took hold of the sword's pommel and drew it close. Y/N must have dropped it before she restored the shield. "Or it was taken from her," she murmured thoughtfully. Standing, she tested the sword's weight in her hands and gave it a twirl before holding it out before her. The sharpness of the blade was evident at it's soundless movements.

"It is time for you to return to your mistress," the Aesir Queen said softly, eyeing the weapon she carried before making a decision and leaving the cavern.

Shielding the sword with a simple enchantment, Frigga made her way to Loki's rooms and was surprised to find two guards stationed outside. The guards glanced nervously at each other before bowing to her with a murmured "Your Majesty," coming from both.

Nodding to them both, Frigga stepped forward and raised her hand to knock when a light shimmer in the air stopped her mid-action. Uncurling her fist, she laid it flat against the shimmer and sighed when the tell-tale sensation of a ward was felt. It surprised her to no end when her hand passed right through to rest on the smooth surface of the wooden door.

Ignoring the guards who were beginning to protest, she entered her son's chambers, promptly closing the doors behind her. "Loki?" She called, not seeing the Prince. When no response came, she ventured further, searching the bedroom and sitting rooms. Both were empty and void of the Prince's presence.

Narrowing her eyes in thought, Frigga turned on her heels and faced the direction of his private library-turned-study. The doors were unsurprisingly closed. But no ward impeded her entrance this time. Softly opening the door, she took a look inside and immediately smiled.

In a position that looked most uncomfortable, he was fast asleep.

Laying the sword gently on the desk before him, Frigga approached her son and lay a gentle hand on his cheek. The soft contact had his eyes fly open and blink in momentary confusion as to who stood before him. "Mother?"

Frigga nodded and smiled softly. "Yes."

Shifting into a more comfortable position, Loki regarded her for a moment and smoothed his appearance before speaking again. "What are you doing here?"

The Queen sighed and motioned to the sword that lay on the desk. "I have come to speak to you of this. I found it below, lying forgotten by the shield. Know you who it might belong to?"

His breath caught as he eyed the weapon. Yes, he knew its owner. Swallowing hard, he nodded. "It is hers," he replied in a voice softer than a whisper.

"I would have you return it to her."

Tearing his gaze away from the sword, Loki looked to his mother and shook his head, a humourless smile curving his lips. "That is not possible I'm afraid."

"And why not?" Frigga asked, crossing her arms and looking down at him expectantly.

"As happy as I am to see you," Loki replied, standing and circling the desk to better inspect the weapon. "I am surprised the wards did not stop you."

"It was not you who erected them, was it?" Frigga asked softly. "I would have felt."

Loki shook his head and lifted the sword, holding it with one hand and extending it out before him. His reflection smiling grimly back at him. "I am surprised he did not tell you of his plans to keep me here."

Frigga's eyes narrowed. The tone he had taken did not bode well. "Who are you speaking of Loki?"

"Your husband," he spat venomously. "The great Allfather."

The Queen's eyes widened upon hearing his words.

"I cannot leave, nor cast the simplest spell," Loki continued, curling his free hand into a fist. The other held the sword in a white-knuckled grip.

"Your power has been taken?" Frigga choked out in disbelief at her husband's actions.

"Torn from me would be a more apt way of putting it," he muttered in reply.

Shaking herself, the Queen approached her son. Reaching for the hand that held the sword, she covered it with her own and silently urged him to let go. "If there was a way, would you return it?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Then I will go," Frigga decided.

Loki's eyes widened before he shook his head. "No, mother. I will not have you risk yourself."

Frigga smiled grimly and took both his hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Let me go, on your behalf."

"But what should happen if you are discovered?" Loki demanded. "What then?"

"Have you forgotten who I am?"

The Prince shook his head, "you know I haven't," he replied, smirking slightly. "But," he continued, the smile dropping. "I fear what Odin might do should he discover that you 'helped' me."

Frigga raised an eyebrow at his use of his father's name but kept silent on the subject. "You leave your father to me," she said instead and winked.

"And what of Thor?" He asked in a last desperate attempt. "What if you are followed?"

Frigga's eyes softened. "My dear boy," she said, reaching up to cup his face with both hands. "Your concern for my safety warms my heart. But something tells me that that is not all."

Closing his eyes, Loki shook his head.

"They will not find her," she vowed. "Not if I can help it."

Swallowing thickly, he opened his eyes and looked down at his mother. "Will you ask after her?" He asked softly.

Frigga nodded and withdrew her hands. "I will," she replied and smiled gently.

With a trembling, Loki watched her go, Y/N's sword in her hands.

Thor watched from the shadows as a servant girl left his brother's chambers. She carried nothing save for a tray of yet another day's worth of uneaten food. He would waste away if he continued like this.

Sighing, the elder Prince turned on his heels and disappeared down the corridor, missing how the girl changed directions and made for the stables.

With the stable master still in the healing rooms, entering the Royal stables unseen was made easier. Discarding her disguise and using a simple cloaking spell, Frigga swept into the stables, the sword strapped to her back.

The Queen smiled upon seeing her preferred horse. A snow white mare of a protective temperament when it came to her mistress. Eira was her name.

Showing herself for a moment to ease the animal, the Queen ran a soothing hand over the horse's flank and murmured soft words. "There will be no saddle and bridle today," she murmured. "We are in a hurry, so we must leave quickly." As though in answer, Eira gently nudged the Queen's hand.

"Right you are," Frigga whispered and took a generous handful of the white mane before swinging herself upon onto the horse's back.

No one saw the Queen leave the stables astride her mare. For a cloaking spell covered both of them, rendering Eira's hooves soundless as she ran.

Soon the palace was left behind and the barren wintry landscape took over. The weak winter sun made the snow sparkle where it had fallen the night before. It wasn't long before a large forest loomed before them and without hesitation, Frigga urged Eira onwards. The mare was fearless and galloped right into it.

Even during the day, the forest was dark. The sun was not quite strong enough to work its way through the dense branches of the towering trees.

The sun had climbed to its mid point by the time the Queen emerged from the wood. Gently urging Eira to a halt, Frigga cast her gaze around and took a deep breath. From the guidance enchantment she had placed on the sword, the village was not far.

As the settlement came into view, she once more altered her appearance. It would not do to draw any unwanted attention.

The villagers merely looked to her in curiosity before going back to minding whatever business they had been about. The Apothecary was easy enough to find, warm light glowed from it windows and created a sharp contrast with the chilly weather outside.

Dismounting, Frigga threw back the hood of her cloak and approached the door, Eira waiting patiently behind her. Lifting her gloved hand, Frigga pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside, the warmth of the shop embracing her.

A small bell tinkled as the door opened and closed.

"Hello?" Asked a voice, female, from the back room. "I will be with you in just a moment." True to her word, the owner of the voice soon appeared and smiled warmly at the visitor.

Frigga returned the smile.

"How may I help you?" The woman asked, her eyes were similar to Y/N's.

 _'Her mother perhaps?'_ Frigga thought to herself before speaking. "I have come to return something that I believe belongs to this family."

The woman narrowed her eyes in confusion. "I do not wish to appear rude," she said, "but I inquire as to who you are?"

Chuckling softly, the Queen nodded and ducked her head, allowing the illusion to reveal her face before looking up again.

The woman gasped and dropped into a curtsy. "Oh Your Majesty, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," Frigga replied and urged the woman to stand. "I have simply come to return something that I believe belongs to your daughter."

"Y/N?"

The Queen nodded and reached behind her to bring the sword forward. With both hands she presented it to the woman.

"Vídarr's sword," Helena whispered. "She took it when she left."

"Vídarr is your son?"

Helena nodded. "He is, Your Majesty."

"And your daughter, how is she?"

Helena was taken aback but soon recovered and smiled sadly. "As well as can be expected, Your Majesty. Your son told us that you healed the injuries done to her face, for that we are in your debt."

Frigga smiled at the mention of Loki and minutely shook her head. "He helped," she said softly.

"Aye," Helena murmured, "he brought her back to us. Risking his own life while doing so."

"What my son did," Frigga replied and passed the sword to Helena, "he did out of love and he would have been here had he been able."

Taking the sword, Helena swallowed hard before speaking again. "He did not wish for her to know that it was he who brought her here."

Sighing, Frigga closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. "It does not surprise me," she said softly. Then, in a voice that was a little louder she said, "may I see her? Y/N."

"Of course," Helena replied and composed herself. "She woke a week after she returned."

Frigga followed the woman up the narrow stairs to the living quarters above and smiled warmly at the other two occupants. "Please," she said, holding up a hand as they made to bow. "There is no need."

"Right this way," Helena spoke up, gesturing for Frigga to follow her to a smaller room.

The Queen entered first and saw Y/N, sitting up in the small bed, a silvery snake curled around her arm. Y/N's eyes widened upon seeing her visitor.

"Y/N," Frigga whispered, earning a hesitant nod from the young woman. Approaching her, she sat on the chair that had been pulled up alongside the bed. "I was not able to heal you before, will you allow me to help you now?"

As though in answer, Y/N lifted a hand and gingerly touched her sealed lips before looking back to the Queen.

"I cannot promise you it will be painless," Frigga said gently. "It will hurt. Will you let me?"

After a moment, Y/N nodded and lowered her hand.

In curiosity, Vídarr had followed his mother and watched with rapt attention as the Queen spoke with his sister. The pair stood watching silently.

"Have you something to hold onto?" Frigga asked.

"My staff," Vídarr said, surprising them both. The Queen smiled up at him and nodded in approval.

Passing his staff to his sister, Vídarr limped back to his mother.

"Now," Frigga murmured as Y/N took a firm hold of the staff. "It has been quite some time since I have last done this."

"Your Majesty has done this before?" Vídarr asked, surprised.

Frigga nodded. "It was a long time ago. Surely you know of the incident with Midgard?"

Y/N nodded and her mother and brother both murmured their assent.

Frigga turned back to Y/N and smiled sadly. "My son was punished as you were. His chest was branded and his lips were sealed. I had to let him suffer for nine whole months before I worked up the courage to go to him and heal him."

Helena and Vídarr glanced at each other before looking back to Y/N and the Queen.

Reaching out, Frigga cupped Y/N's face with one hand and held up a small blade in the other. "The thread is thin enough for me to cut," she explained, "but it will pull. Are you ready?"

Y/N nodded and grasped the staff tightly, the serpent resting its head atop her hands.

Cautiously fitting the blade between the lips, Frigga began. Y/N's lips were bleeding anew and every suppressed whimper that came forth brought Frigga back all those years before when she had done the same to Loki.

Y/N could not stop the tears that broke free. A blazing pain accompanied every released stitch and she felt the blood run down her chin.

"Almost there," Frigga whispered as the blade slid beneath the last stitch.

The moment the last of the metal thread was gone, Y/N could not stop herself from breathing in deeply. Though the passing air made her flinch as it passed over the holes made by the thread.

"Some water and cloths if you please," Frigga instructed and soon both Helena and Vídarr took off to collect the desired items.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, looking down.

"You are most welcome, child."

"Was he really branded?" She asked quietly, one hand reaching up trace her marked cheek.

Frigga nodded. "Aye he was. And I will never forget his screams as they held him down and pressed the hot iron to his bare flesh."

Y/N gasped softly and wiped her eyes with a trembling hand.

"He would have come himself had he been able to."

"Really?"

Frigga nodded and took Y/N's hand in her own.

"Why would he come?" Y/N whispered, "why would he care of how I fared?"

"Oh my dear child," Frigga said, "I see injury in your eyes. But not of the body. His words have caused you suffering, have they not?"

Y/N nodded and looked down.

"I too, have been the victim of his lies," Frigga said, gaining a look of surprise from the young woman. "And they hurt as much as any blade. You believed him, did you not?"

"How could I not?" Y/N whispered, "I did not want to, but I did."

"My dear, you are not the first. But I hope and pray that you will believe what I will have to say."

"What is it Your Majesty?" 

"My son is a complicated young man and there is much I still do not quite understand. His emotions, unlike his brother's, have always been well hidden and hard to read."

Y/N nodded in silent agreement with the Queen's words.

"He told me how you risked your own life to save his on the battlefield," Frigga continued, eyes going soft with memory. "That you outrode six dark elves and fought back the Warriors Three in order to keep him safe."

Y/N felt tears sting her eyes and she swallowed hard. "It was my du-"

"Do not say it was duty that guided you to such actions," Frigga interrupted gently. "Nor your sworn oath to the Crown. I know it was neither. And I know that you did all this, even give him your own steed so he might return home, with no thought for yourself."

"I had to," Y/N whispered, not daring to look up.

"I know," the Queen murmured. "I also know that you did all this despite the firm belief that you meant nothing to him. That he did not care for you as you did, and still do, for him."

"He did nothing to prove me wrong."

"Oh but he did," Frigga said, gently urging her to look up. "Who do you think brought you here? Who intervened in your public humiliation in the palace courtyard? Who brought you to his own chambers to heal you?"

"But what he said-"

"Were lies," Frigga murmured, "lies to protect himself."

"Would he really have come?" Y/N asked, her eyes bright with tears.

Frigga nodded. "In a heartbeat, and those were his words. But he is not able to leave his rooms and his power has been taken from him."

"He is a prisoner?" Y/N whimpered, "a captive because of me?"

"Oh hush my dear child," Frigga soothed, "no. His actions were of his own decision. His concern was for you and your safety. That is why my husband has taken such measures against him. Because he would have done everything in his power to keep them from finding you." She paused as tears of her own crept down her cheeks. "Your life matters more to him than his own."

Y/N felt her bottom lip begin to quiver. "He wanted to keep me safe?" She whispered, as though not quite believing her own words.

Frigga nodded. "Above everything else."

At that very moment, Helena and Vídarr returned and brought the bowl and the cloths.

"I will take my leave now," Frigga announced and gave Y/N's hand a gentle squeeze before standing up. "I have no doubt that my absence has been noted at the palace."

"How is he?"

Those three whispered words made the Queen smiled sadly and look towards the young woman who had spoken. "In spite of everything, he is well."

"I am glad," Y/N replied softly and began to gingerly clean the blood from around the healed wounds.

Vídarr and Helena left Y/N to herself as they showed the Queen out, but just as they were bidding her farewell, Y/N came stumbling down the stairs, her face twisted in pain before she smoothed the expression away.

"Your Majesty, please wait," she gasped out and waved away any attempts to help her.

'What is it child?" With those words and a look from the Queen, they were left alone as Vídarr and Helena went back up the stairs.

"Will you tell him something, from me?"

Frigga nodded and smiled softly. "Of course I will. What is it?"

"A little while ago," Y/N began and took a deep breath and let it shudder out of her. "He asked me to forgive him. At the time I did not know what he meant, but now I do. In the letter he wrote to me he said that he has no right to ask for my forgiveness, but I have no desire to withhold it from him."

"What are you saying?" Frigga asked quietly.

"What I am saying is," Y/N paused, her heart in her throat, "is that I forgive him. Will you tell him that?"

"Aye, my child," Frigga replied and swiped away Y/N's tears. "I will."

Y/N said nothing as she watched the Queen leave, she stayed where she was, until her mother came to bring her back to her room.


	25. The stories were true...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn't make my demons disappear she made me strong enough to fight them. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Nothing seemed amiss by the time the Queen returned. Her clone had done its work and prevented her departure from being discovered. Or so she believed.

Smiling and nodding to those she passed, Frigga made her way to Loki's suite of rooms. There was little activity in the corridors by the Prince's rooms and she was mildly surprised to see that the guards that had been stationed there only that morning, were gone.

Raising a hand as she stood before the door, Frigga frowned upon not feeling the ward. With the warning bells beginning to ring in her mind, she opened the doors and crossed the threshold. As with the first time, Loki was nowhere to be found. Smiling knowingly, the Queen made for the study.

"Loki?" She called softly, slowing opening the heavy doors. The room beyond was empty. The chair in which she had found him asleep in was on its back. Her frown deepening, Frigga righted the chair and ran a light hand over it. "Where are you?" She whispered, her elegant fingers tapping out a rhythmic pattern on the chair's back.

Sweeping from the room in a swirl of golden silk, the Aesir Queen left his rooms behind, her heels clicking on the polished floors of the palace corridors. There was but one person she would ask on this matter.

The guards stationed at the throne room immediately bowed and opened the looming doors. Crossing into the cavernous room, Frigga sought out her husband. At first glance, the room was empty, her soft breathing the only sound.

Then she saw him. Standing by one of the room's countless stone balconies.

"I was thinking of how long it would take for you to come," Odin said by way of greeting.

"I am here now," Frigga replied, moving to stand beside him, her eyes sweeping over the palace grounds and the city beyond. "And I come with but one question."

Neither turned to look at the other.

"Where is he?"

Resting both hands on the carved stone railing, Odin did not give an answer, at least not right away. He knew of whom his wife spoke. It did not take much thought and yet he knew that the answer would only serve to widen the distance that now gaped between them. "The canyons," he said simply, knowing that she would easily be able to understand his meaning.

"The canyons?" Frigga repeated, "why in the Nine would you-" any remaining words were silenced as realisation dawned. "By the Norns, tell me you did not send him _there?"_

His silence was her answer.

"Why?" She asked, a seething fury simmering below her calm tones.

"His actions merited it," Odin replied, his good eye focusing on the snow that had begun to fall, coating the grounds in a soft white.

"And what actions might they be?"

"The inclusion of you in his schemes."

Frigga's eyes widened a fraction at his words. "His schemes?"

"Indeed."

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slow and clasped her hands together. "He was bound to his chambers, by a ward that _you_ erected. His magic was torn from him, rendering him powerless."

"There is no denying his intellect," Odin said, one hand coming up to lightly stroke the raven that had landed on his shoulder. "Nor his way with words. There is no reason to believe that he did not use either to coerce some unfortunate to do his bidding."

"Am I to suppose that I am that unfortunate?" Frigga demanded. "That I did not merely go to speak with my son?"

"He is n-"

" _Yes,"_ she said, cutting him off and earning a startled look from him. "He is. No matter how much you tell yourself that he is not."

A tense silence settled over the two monarchs.

"Have you ever stopped to consider that you may not have been told the entire tale?" Frigga asked, breaking the silence. "That you may have condemned an innocent woman and ruined her life for good?"

"I have been told all that I wish to hear."

"Therein lies the problem," she replied. "You have not heard what you _need_ to hear. That young woman, though no longer imprisoned, is far from free. Her life will be spent looking over her shoulder and sleeping with one eye open. No man will wish to marry her, thus leaving her alone when her family dies, assuming she does not do so first."

"What is it you wish to tell me wife?" Odin asked wearily.

"Something very simple," Frigga said. "That she is innocent. She has been all along and you would punish her for a crime she did not commit."

"She deceived us-"

"To protect her brother," she cut him off. "Her brother who is a cripple and who was more than willing to take up arms when you called for it. What she did, she did out of love for her brother. Out of loyalty to her family."

"And what of her loyalty to the Crown?" Odin demanded. "Does that not merit some importance?"

"Is it a crime to hold one's family above all else?" When she received no answer, Frigga continued, though in a softer tone, "she gave her life for this realm, something our warriors dream of. Aim for even."

Turning on her heels, she made to leave when Odin spoke, stopping her in her tracks. "It is too late for her now."

"Only because you have made it so, for both of them."

"He would not be in this situation had he not intervened," Odin replied, turning to face his wife. "Had he simply let justice run its course, he would still be free."

"Free?" At this, the Queen laughed. "He has not been free since the day he returned from Midgard."

"He served his sentence, did he not?"

"It would seem not," Frigga said and folded her arms. "Or you would not have seen fit to punish him so."

"Aiding a traitor is a crime," Odin stated, "and his history did not aid his cause."

"Aiding a traitor, what, by keeping her safe from those that wish to see her dead?" Frigga shook her head and made to leave.

"It was not his place to intervene."

"But he did. We cannot change what has happened."

Stepping past her, Odin reentered the throne room, Frigga hot on his heals. "You would have me show leniency?" He said, stopping a short distance from the throne. "To grant pardon?"

"Yes, yes I would."

"You would have me appear weak?" He demanded, swinging around to face her, yet she held her ground. "To go back on my word?"

"Mercy is not weakness," Frigga replied. "It is the greatest of all strengths." She fell silent for a short moment before speaking again, lifting her chin she looked him in the eyes. "If she dies, you will lose him. He will burn this realm to ash."

"Why?" Odin asked, "why does he place such importance in her?"

"How can you not see?" Frigga asked, disbelief clear in her rising tones. "Thor told you of it and you accused Loki of it as though it were a crime."

"Thwarting the Crown's justice _is_ a crime-"

"HE LOVES HER!" The words echoed clearly off the golden columns. It was not often that the Queen raised her voice, least of all in anger. "Everything he has done was for her," she continued in a softer tone, though not by much. "These schemes you accuse him of were nothing more than ways for him to ensure her safety and as for my involvement," Frigga paused and blinked away the tears that had threatened to fall. "I have long since cherished the hope that Loki would find someone, someone that would stand by his side and not abandon him as so many have done before her."

The throne room echoed with her words long after she had departed.

Odin remained and seated himself on the throne and stayed there, his wife's words haunting him. So distracted was he, that he did not notice Thor's return.

"Father?"

That one word brought him from his thoughts and he looked to where his eldest stood before him. There was a hollowness to the Prince's blue eyes, a haunted look. "Yes?"

Thor swallowed thickly and took a trembling breath before replying. "It has been done as requested, father."

"You have done well my son," the King praised him.

The Prince merely nodded and bowed before taking his leave.

~ ~ ~

With the aid of her mother's magic and the advanced healing of her race, Y/N had felt her back, the scarred mess that it was, begin to recover. The crippling pain she had felt for a good few days had faded to a dull ache. It still hurt to move, but she was no longer bound to her bed.

It had taken her mother some time to become accustomed to Jörmungandr's presence. While the snake stayed out of her way as much as possible, Helena was still very wary around him. Vídarr had taken a great liking to him, eased into it by his sister's evident ease around the reptile. 

While the days presented a challenge in themselves, the nights were infinitely worse. Sleeping on her back was not yet an option, thus she was often found curled on her side, hand tucked beneath her cheek, the brand pressed against her palm. 

It was one such night, long after the family had gone to sleep and Y/N herself had settled down to sleep with Jörmungandr curled on the nightstand, that she was woken. It was a dull pain at first and soon she had dozed off again.

Then it came again, sharper and more intense than before. Hissing, Y/N sat up in bed and summoned a flame to the candle she always kept close by. Her movements and low noises had woken the snake. 

"What is it?" He asked sleepily. 

"My hand," she ground out as the pain came again and muffled a groan. "It hurts."

Blinking himself to be more awake, Jörmungandr slithered to the bed. "Show me." 

With a concentrated effort, she uncurled the hurting limb and presented it to him, the candle's soft light illuminating the markings on her palm. 

"They should not be that colour," the serpent muttered, his tongue flicking in and out. 

Y/N's eyes widened upon seeing that the arrangement of stars on her palm was no longer that opalescent white, but rather black. Black and edged with red. The red that came from an inflamed injury. "Why is this happening?" She whispered, on the verge of tears from the pain. "Why do they look like that?" 

Jörmungandr sighed heavily before speaking. "It appears that the mark is working after all."  


"It burns," she whimpered, the first tear escaping. "Stars! It hurts." She drew her hand to her chest as she spoke and cradled it. 

"Did you hear what I said Y/N?" Jörmungandr asked softly. 

The young woman shook her head and swiped her tears away. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I did not."

"The mark appears to be working," Jörmungandr repeated patiently. "Just as the stories say."

"Working?" She whispered and looked down at her hand. 

"Aye," the snake murmured grimly. "And very well too, from what I can see." 

Uncurling her hand, she peered closer at the discoloured stars and grunted as another wave of pain crashed into her. "But what could possibly be happening?" She wondered out loud. 

"Describe the colours to me," Jörmungandr instructed. "We may be able to decipher a clue."  


"The stars themselves are black," she began, "but each of them is surrounded by red. I have seen this red before. It is a sickly colour, unhealthy. Infected. Poisoned."

"Poisoned," Jörmungandr murmured and nodded. "Poisoned." 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you on about?" 

"What does it feel like?" 

"I told you," she muttered, "it stings and burns like fire running through my veins."

"I'm afraid I may know," the snake said. "And from what you have told me, this is most serious."

Forcing herself to ignore the pain, Y/N focused on Jörmungandr. "When will you tell me what is happening?" 

"The mark you bare, what do the stories say of it?"

"They are said to form a bond between the people that carry them," Y/N replied and felt her heart stutter in fear. "In particular, when the other is in great pain and distress." Her tear filled eyes met Jörmungandr's. "Something is happening to him, isn't it? That's why I'm feeling it."

Jörmungandr nodded. "I'm afraid so."  


"Then I must go," she muttered and flung the bedcloths to the side, completely smothering Jörmungandr. "I have to go."

"And just where do you think you're off to this time of night?" He demanded, fighting to free himself from the fabric. 

"I should think it was rather obvious," Y/N shot back as she started to get dressed as quietly as she could. 

"You are not leaving this house," Jörmungandr hissed, still covered by the sheets as his struggles increased. "You have no horse, so unless you plan to walk to wherever you're going."

"I shall call for Tallagor."

"It will take him a good while to get here," the snake remarked smugly. 

"You underestimate his speed," Y/N replied, biting back a hiss as the pain in her hand rose again. With trembling hands, she pulled on a pair of gloves and flung a cloak around her shoulders, the long hood hanging halfway down her back. 

Finally managing to free himself, Jörmungandr stared at her dressed form. "You are actually going."

"I have to," she whispered, "I cannot turn my back on him now. He risked his life to save mine, it is only right that I return the favour." 

"And wind up dead?" Jörmungandr hissed. "I don't think he'll like that much. Not sure your family would either." 

"No one said anything about dying," Y/N muttered. "But this is something I have to do."

"You love him, don't you? I mean, you wouldn't go running off in the middle of the night to goodness-knows where for just anyone, would you?" 

Y/N shook her head and an ugly sob broke free. "He is suffering because he helped me."

"Aye," Jörmungandr replied gently. "But you heard the Queen. Your safety mattered most to him, more so than his own." 

She released a trembling breath and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes before taking a deep breath. "Tallagor ought to be here soon," she whispered and made for the door. 

"Well, since I can't convince you to stay," Jörmungandr announced softly, "I will sure as Hel be going with you, or her Ladyship will have my head."

"And here I was thinking you genuinely enjoyed my company," Y/N replied, feigning hurt. 

"You are pushing your luck as it is," he muttered as he slithered up her arm and burrowed into her fur-clad shoulders. 

Casting a muffling spell, Y/N crept down the stairs and muttered a low spell to unlock the door before stepping out into the cold and resealing the door. 

"As nice as this fur is," Jörmungandr piped up, "this weather is even colder, so where is this precious horse of yours?" 

"Right there," Y/N announced, feeling rather pleased with herself as she saw Tallagor trot into view. He bore no saddle or bridle, but this meant little to her as she took a generous handful of his mane and vaulted onto his back, groaning as pain spiked in her back. 

"How will I know where to go?" She whispered, "how can I possibly know where he is? Though its most likely the palace."

"Don't say that," Jörmungandr replied, "you could well be wrong and we cannot risk that. Follow the pain and you will find him. The pain will guide you."

Pulling up the hood and muttering an enchantment for it to stay in place, Y/N leaned forward and wordlessly urged Tallagor into a canter and then into a gallop as they left the village behind. 

The night landscape blurred past them and soon Y/N had not the slightest idea of where they were. The cold was biting and she thanked the stars for the thick cloak and lined glove she wore. 

And as Jörmungandr had spoken, the pain did guide her, for as dawn's soft light warmed the winter sky, Y/N found herself nowhere near the palace, but a few feet away from Asgard's vast and only canyons that stretched for as far as the eye could see. 

The gorges stretched out before her and in truth, she was frightened. She had heard stories of the creatures that dwelled there, the most well known of them? A serpent with eyes like flame and venom to match. The creature was said to be bigger than a fully grown oak tree and twice as thick. 

With trembling legs and shaking hands, she dismounted and stood beside Tallagor. How was she to find him? Where was she to begin? 

"Follow the pain," Jörmungandr whispered in her ear as though having read her thoughts. "It has guided you here and it will guide you further still. Trust it."

Swallowing thickly, Y/N nodded and took a breath to steel herself. It didn't work. 

With Tallagor following close behind, Y/N entered the canyons and forced herself not to look down. Whimpering as the pain came time and again, she traced her way along narrow stone pathways that had been carved into the cliff sides. 

The sun was becoming visible on the horizon when the pain drove Y/N to her knees. 

"Look ahead," Jörmungandr whispered. "Look up."

Barely able to breathe through the pain, Y/N did as he said. Before them yawned the mouth of a cave. Pushing herself to stand, she stumbled forward and into the darkness of the cave, shakily summoning a light to see by. 

At first she saw nothing, but movement from her left caught her attention and had her gasp in horror. "Sire?" She whispered. 

Bound he was, to a rocky outcropping. Bound in such a way to arch his back. His hands and feet were fastened with chains that had been hammered securely into the rock. His head was flung back and resting rather uncomfortably on a small ledge. He was naked from the waist up, his arms stretched down and his legs bent. His eyes were closed in evident torment as his body spasmed lightly and at intervals. 

Y/N raised a hand to her mouth in horror. The source of his agony lay curled above him in the form of the snake she feared. Its poison dripping rhythmically onto his bare and vulnerable form. 

"Sire?" She whispered again, the word choking out of her as she saw the muzzle. A horrid metal contraption that silenced him, with only fragments of pained gasps escaping. Her own lips trembled as she edged closer and reached out, laying a trembling hand gently on his cheek. 

His eyes flew open at the chaste touch and looked to her. 


	26. I could almost feel you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I crave a love so deep the ocean would be jealous.
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

The touch had been so light, he believed he had imagined it. A hooded figure stood beside him, the dim lighting making it hard to distinguish any features. They said nothing as their trembling hand rested gently on his cheek. The cool leather of their gloves was a balm to the fire that raged through his every vein. As another drop fell, he groaned against the muzzle and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sire?"

That word, that whispered word, spoken in a voice he had never thought to hear again. Forcing his eyes open, he saw the figure lower the hood of their cloak. The soft glow of the witchlight illuminated her features and the tears that she had yet to shed. They swam in her eyes in pools of silver and like shooting stars, they broke free and trailed down her cheeks.

"What have they done to you?" She whispered, her voice shaking as much as her hand that she had yet to retract. 

When he tried to say her name, all that came out was an unintelligible grunt, a sound that had her eyes widening for a fraction of a moment. Reaching forward with her free hand, she reached behind his head to where the muzzle was fastened. But as she did so, a drop of poison landed on her arm. He watched her and waited for her to hiss and retract her arm, but she did not. Her jaw clenched against the pain and a small gasp left her lips, but her hands continued their work.

The lock was more complicated than she had anticipated and with each passing moment, another drop would fall on her arm. The pain was worse than what she felt in her hand and she fought to keep silent. She could feel him watching her, his eyes baring a haze of pain and confusion. As though he did not truly believe her to be there.

"Jörmungandr," she whimpered, the word barely making it past her clenched teeth. 

"Right here," the smaller snake replied softly. "What is it you need?" 

"The poison," Y/N whispered and cast her eyes up, hoping fervently that Jörmungandr would take her meaning. 

Y/N became only vaguely aware of Jörmungandr sliding from her shoulders, his scales catching in the hovering witchlight. Only a short distance away, the flame-like eyes of the canyon serpent watched her and blinked lazily. Y/N swallowed hard and bit on the inside of her cheek as yet another burning drop fell on her arm. 

Tearing her gaze away, she looked down and gasped softly. Where the poison had fallen on him, angry red lines radiated outwards, covering the entirety of his torso. And there, right in the centre, a shape she was all to familiar with. The red lines of the healed brand stood out sharply. 

Shaking her head, she returned her focus where her hands were currently at the back of his head, fingers fumbling with the lock to the muzzle. Cursing under her breath, she dug her fingers into what grooves she could find.  


Loki watched her as intently as he could manage, he was now shielded from the poison by her. With soft hisses and grunts she bore it, each venomous drop. He knew she had seen it, plain as day and yet still she was intent on completing her task. No illusion or hallucination would do as she did now. No illusion would weep as she did, the salty drops landing on the muzzle. 

"Finally," she muttered as a faint click could be heard. The lock gave way under her fingers and gently she lifted it off and tossed it behind her where it clattered noisily against the stone. 

Taking a lungful of the cold air, he kept his gaze on her. _"Ayla,"_ he whispered. 

"You have called me that twice before," Y/N replied softly, her eyes avoiding his own. 

"You remember?" 

She nodded. 

"You are real then?" He asked, desperately wishing for her to look up. 

Her eyes snapped to his. Fresh tears trailed down her cheeks at his words and she nodded quickly. "Of course I am," she murmured and smiled bravely. Any words she may have spoken were silenced as her eyes widened, her attention was on the snake above them. 

"Jörmungandr?" She whispered, shocked. 

Curious to see what had captured her attention so utterly, the Prince attempted to angle his head up, wincing as the rock cut into his already bruised and damaged skin. A second snake loomed over them. It's fangs gleamed like freshly sharpened blades. It's body rippled like molten silver as it moved, the great head towering over the other. 

The second snake gave no indication that it had heard her, its eyes focused solely on the serpent beneath it. 

Jörmungandr moved quicker than lightning as he wrapped himself around the other snake. The other snake who now began to realise the danger it was in.  


Without thinking twice, Y/N threw herself over the Prince as the snake began to struggle in earnest, the poison coming quicker and more haphazardly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bowed her head and prayed her cloak would cover what her upper body could not. 

Angry hisses echoed through the cave as the snakes tangled together, the sound of scales scraping against stone made Y/N cringe. 

An eternity passed before silence suddenly fell, the abruptness rousing a strange curiosity within her. Fearfully, she lifted her head and looked up. Her breath stuttered within her chest as her heart thundered. 

No glowing eyes looked back at her, nor did the burning venom fall from dripping fangs. The canyon serpent lay motionless, its mouth was wide open as its head lolled to the side, the rest of its body disappearing into the darkness of the cave. 

Raising a trembling hand, Y/N guided the light forward and shrieked, stumbling back and falling to the ground. 

Emerging from the shadows, Jörmungandr flicked his tongue out at her, a soft hiss that sound suspiciously like a laugh coming from him. 

Glaring up at him as she dusted herself off, Y/N stood up. "That wasn't funny," she muttered and narrowed her eyes at the towering reptile. "You nearly scared the life out of me."

"It isn't often that I get to be bigger than everyone else," Jörmungandr replied, sounding much too smug. "So I might as well enjoy it." 

"So go and enjoy it somewhere else," she retorted, "I have something more important than your height in need of my attention." 

Jörmungandr opened his mouth to undoubtedly shoot something back when a ragged gasp cut him off.  


Y/N's attention snapped to the bound Prince at the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw him writhing against the chains that secured him to the rock. Hurrying to his side, she berated herself for getting so distracted by her bickering with Jörmungandr. 

Loki's eyes were open, yet she knew he could not see her. They rolled back as his back arched, drawing her attention once more to the sickly red lines caused by the poison. Pulling off her gloves and ignoring the cold, she reached out a hesitant hand and rested it gently on his glistening forehead and flinched at its warmth. Pressing her hand down a little firmer, she spoke softly, murmuring phrases in both Elvish and Aesir, comforting and reassuring words mixed with those of healing. 

"Shhh," she whispered, smoothing away sweat-soaked strands away from his face. His eyes were glazed over, not seeing or feeling anything but the burning of the venom and Y/N was forced to consider just how long he had spent down here, alone and in the dark. With nothing but the pain to remind him that he still lived and that this was no dream.

"I will free you of these chains Sire," she said softly and felt her heart twist painfully as he whimpered beneath her, the agonised sound echoing through the cave. "I promise you." Reluctantly retracting her hands, she sank to her knees on the cave's floor and directed the orb of light to illuminate the chains and the shackles that held him. The skin of his wrists had been rubbed raw and dried blood crusted around the metal.

Taking a deep breath, she took hold of both chains and closed her eyes. _" Ang, tinc. Leith- i er cin gar-," _she murmured, directing her seidr towards the metal links. Almost instantly, she was thrown away from the chains, her back crashing into the opposite wall of the small cave.

Groaning and more than a little winded, Y/N used the wall for support as she pushed herself up to stand. Her recovering back smarted and she was sure that she felt a small trickle of something warm down her back.

Stumbling her way back, she made to try again when something caught her eye. It was the Prince. The colour of his skin had changed from a flawless ivory to a deep blue, his glazed eyes were no longer green, but red.

Y/N covered her mouth, her eyes wide. While all the realm knew of his heritage, seeing it before her was something else entirely. The raised lines on his skin were at odds with the marks the poison had spread as evidence of its presence. Lowering her hand, she reached out but Jörmungandr's voice soon halted her. "Your skin will burn if you touch him," the snake explained. 

"What's happening to him?" She whispered, eyes fixed on the Prince. 

"His body is fighting the venom," Jörmungandr replied softly. "The cold of his birth form will aid in combating the burning heat of the poison." 

Y/N nodded as though in understanding. Yet after a few moments, she reached out and lay a hand atop one of his tightly curled ones. Jörmungandr's words of warning flashed through her mind as her palm began to sting and feel raw all over, yet she could not bring herself to let go. 

"You must help me," she said to the snake, looking over her shoulder to meet his gaze in the soft light of early morning. "The chains are protected and my magic is unable to break past them." 

"Then what makes you think that I be able to?" 

Y/N glared at him. "I _must_ free him," she hissed. "I cannot leave him here." 

"But surely Tallagor's hooves would be able to deliver a sound enough blow to shatter the bolts that have been driven into the rock," Jörmungandr muttered thoughtfully. 

"They are protected," Y/N repeated, frustrated and desperate beyond belief. 

"Yes," the snake replied, "against magic. Magic like yours and all those that would seek to release him." 

Casting a glance down, she saw that Loki had closed his eyes and had thrown his head back as the pain wracked through him, his jaw tightly clenched. Tears clouded her vision as she felt him tremble violently beneath her hand. The chains rattled against the stones as he moved. 

Nodding frantically, Y/N silently agreed with the snake and called to Tallagor who waited patiently by the cave's entrance. As the stallion came to a halt before her, she spoke in hushed tones. "What I am about to ask of you is dangerous, and I pray to the Valar that you will not be harmed." Tallagor lowered his head and nuzzled her cheek in reassurance. "Will you do it?" She asked, "will you break the chains for us?" 

Tallagor regarded her solemnly before lowering his head and raising it again. 

Retreating to a safe distance, Y/N held her breath as Tallagor reared up. At first he merely pawed at the empty air, before he lowered them, the powerful hooves slamming down on the thick metal, the resounding crack was ear splitting. 

Rushing forward, Y/N felt tears of relief course down her cheeks at the sight of the shattered metal. Instantly, she moved to catch Loki as his ankles were released. Her arms circled him securely. He was however, much taller than her and weighed a little more, thus causing her kneels to buckle and eventually collapse beneath her. 

Choosing to stay where she was, she shuffled her cloak off her shoulders and draped it over his own. Looking down, she felt and saw his head rest against her shoulder, his breaths coming out short and uneven as he trembled against her. His eyes were closed and his jaw remained tightly clenched. 

Raising a hand, she gently swiped away the hair that had fallen across his face and tucked it behind his ear. She did not retract that hand, but instead let it rest against his blue cheek, her thumb absently tracing the markings that she knew to be unique to him. The burning in her hand did nothing to deter her in her gentle ministrations. 

With her free arm, she tightened her hold on him and rested her cheek atop his head and smiled sadly into the semi-darkness of the cave. "I am sorry that it took me so long," she whispered, "but I am here now. I know not if you will remember this, or if you can even hear me. But I need you to know that in pulling you from that battlefield, I was not following the orders of your brother," pausing, she closed her eyes. "It was not my promise to him that drove me to keep you safe. It was merely an excuse to hide behind." Looking down, she ought to have smiled upon seeing his skin return to the pale ivory she was accustomed to. 

"In all aspects of my life, you are vital," she whispered, her words fanning lightly over his fevered skin. "If the grave were to claim you, I would follow shortly." With a soft gasp, she buried her face in his shoulder and let the tears come. They ran freely down her cheeks and soaked into his hair. "I can't loose you," she whimpered, "I won't survive. Fight this _a'maelamin,_ I beg of you," she lifted her head and gazed down at him, laying a gentle hand on his cheek. "Fight this and return to me."

Having returned to his normal size, Jörmungandr curled up before them and dozed off only moments before Y/N did. Tallagor stood before their little group, content to keep watch. 

She did not know what it was that woke her. It could have been a number of things, the biting cold of a winter's night. The harsh grip of the guards hauling her to her feet as the unconscious Prince was taken from her and given to the warm embrace of the Queen. 

She did not bother to struggle, she was not strong enough and her seidr was exhausted. Yet the defiant fire did not leave her eyes as she looked up at the towering form of the Allfather, the distant sounds of the guards struggling to contain Tallagor reaching her ears. Something within her smiled and rejoiced at their difficulty. Jörmungandr was nowhere to be seen, until she felt something cold and smooth slither along the inside of her sleeve. 

Y/N barely heard the Allfather's words as he sentenced her. Her gaze was fixed on him as he rested against his mother's heart. Her cloak still wrapped around him. His moss green eyes remained closed and as though she could sense her, the Queen's eyes found hers. 

Frigga met the young woman's gaze and nodded to the silent request in those e/c eyes. She watched as the young woman was lead away and her heart broke upon seeing Y/N look over her shoulder one last time. 

The ride back to the palace was a silent one. Frigga said nothing to Odin, even once they had arrived. Carrying her fully-grown son into the palace, she went straight to his rooms and lay him down on the bed. 

The burns left by the venom had already begun to heal, as had the wounds the shackles had left on his wrists. The red lines looked less angry now and his breathing had begun to even out. 

Closing her eyes, Frigga rested a gentle hand on his forehead and let her own magic seep into him, giving him what comfort and aid she could. She would never forgive her husband for this, for inflicting such harm upon their son. Blood or no. 

The Queen stayed beside her son through the night, sitting in a chair she had pulled up beside the bed. She would never forget the look in Y/N's eyes as they had led her away. It was branded in her memory. Taking one of his hands in her own, Frigga raised it to her lips and simply held it there.  


"Mother?"

At the sound of his voice, Frigga smiled and leaned forward, pressing his hand to her heart and tenderly kissing his forehead. "Yes my darling," she replied softly, "I am here." 

Loki looked up at his mother, the morning sun created a soft halo around her. Everything still hurt, though it was more of a dull ache now, the burning had subsided. 

"You are home," she assured him, "safe."

"Safe," he repeated in a whisper and furrowed his brow. 

"What is it my son? You seem troubled," Frigga observed. 

"More confused than troubled," the Prince replied and met his mother's kind gaze. 

"How so?" 

"I do not recall much," he murmured, "but I what I do remember, feels faint and uncertain, as though it did not really happen."

Settling herself on the edge of the bed beside him, Frigga held his hand in both of hers. "What is it that you remember?" 

"A face," he whispered, "one that I believed never to see again. And hands, gentle hands that cooled my burning skin as the poison ran through me. Hands that unfastened the muzzle. A body, thrown over mine as a shield against the venom."

Frigga listened intently and fought a sad smile. 

"A voice too," Loki continued, his own was soft and his eyes were distant with recollection. "That spoke soft words to me, words I did not always understand. But they brought me peace and gave me the strength I needed."

"Did you recognise the voice?" Frigga asked gently. 

After a moment of silent thought, Loki nodded. "I fear I will never forget it," he replied, meeting his mother's gaze. "For if my mind does, my heart will never." His eyes then widened and he clutched at his mother's hands in a manner that could only be described as desperate. "Please, mother," he begged. "Please tell me it was real. That I did see her. Feel her soft touch and hear her sweet voice. Was it real? Was she really there?" 

Though startled by her son's behaviour, the Queen schooled her features and nodded. "Yes, my precious one, she was there. She was there."

"And where is she now?" He asked the question as though he dreaded, yet needed the answer. "Where is she?" 

Frigga sighed and briefly closed her eyes before opening them again. "She was taken away."

"Taken away?" 

The Queen nodded and swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat. 

"Where to? The dungeons?"

"No," Frigga said softly and blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. "Not the dungeons."

"Then where?" Loki demanded, dread growing within him like a weed. "Mother please."

With a heavy heart, she imparted the news, "she was exiled, forbidden to return under pain of death." She watched as the words sunk in and she swore that in that moment, in the heavy silence that followed, that she could hear his heart shatter. 

A ragged gasp tore itself free from him as he curled in on himself and let out a cry that tore at her very soul. Had his magic been his own, the room would have been in ruins. When he lifted his eyes to look at her, he had but one question and it was asked, nay begged for, in the most broken voice Frigga had ever heard. "Where?"

"Your father would not tell me, nor did he tell Thor."

Loki simply nodded, "of course he didn't," he muttered. "And to think that the people say I am cruel."

Frigga found that, in that moment, she had never agreed with something more. 

"I will find her," he vowed, "mark my words mother, I _will_ find her." 

"I know you will," she whispered and smiled faintly, "and I will do what I can to aid you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ang, tinc. Leith- i er cin gar- = Iron, metal. Release the one you hold.  
> A'maelamin = My beloved.


	27. Distant shores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found in her the answers I hadn't thought to ask.
> 
> ~ Atticus

_~ 18 months later ~_

She stared through the window at the stars and sighed. It was a clear night, allowing her a clear view of the star strewn sky. Some twinkled brighter than others, it was these that made her smile, albeit sadly. It was always those that shone brightest that were nearing their end. Dying. Pulling her knees to her chest, Y/N circled them with her arms and blinked as one silvery tear traced its way down her scarred cheek.

"Can't sleep?"

Looking down, she saw Jörmungandr curl himself at her feet, his silvery eyes blinking up at her. Extending a hand, she held out her arm and smiled softly as he slithered up and settled himself across her shoulders. "It won't get easier will it?" Y/N whispered, gently stroking his scales. 

"Unless you can forget everything that happened," Jörmungandr replied, "then no. It won't."

"I thought as much," she murmured and leaned her head back against the wall. 

A soft silence settled over the duo and as the sun began to rise over the small village, Y/N woke to find that she had once again fallen asleep by the window. Small puffs of air on her neck had her looking down to see that Jörmungandr was still very much asleep. 

Moving slowing so as to not wake the sleeping reptile, Y/N slid off the window seat and padded her way to her wardrobe. It was the beginning of the English summer and her collection of Midgardian clothing was growing. Letting her fingers dance lightly over the hangers, she finally settled on a light purple blouse that she paired with a loose white skirt that reached a little above her knees. 

Feeling Jörmungandr stir, she chuckled softly and gently petted him, effectively rousing him. "Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty," she whispered and kissed his scaly head. 

"Already?" He groaned, making her laugh a little louder. 

"I'm afraid so," she replied. "I need to bathe before we head off to the library." 

Taking her meaning, the snake slid down her shoulders and promptly made his way back to the window seat, if only to get a few minutes more of sleep. 

Shaking her head and smiling fondly, Y/N laid out her clothes on the bed and made for the bathroom. Once inside and stripped of her sleeping clothes, she stepped into the shower enclosure and sighed blissfully as the warm water cascaded down. 

Wrapping herself in a towel and drying her hair with a second one, Y/N padded back into the bedroom and dressed herself for the day. A soft morning breeze blew in from the partially opened window and played lightly with the hem of her skirt. 

Her hair, as short as it was, did not take long to style and make to look presentable. It had grown in the months since she had arrived and now lightly brushed her neck. It would certainly take a while before it looked the way it once had. 

Adding a pair of delicate floral earrings to her ensemble, Y/N made her way over to the window seat and scooped the dozing Jörmungandr into her arms before heading to the small kitchen her cottage came with. 

Soon the scent of fresh flowers wafted out to greet her from the numerous bouquets that were dotted around the small but cosy living area. Setting the sleeping snake on the kitchen counter, she busied herself with steeping her morning cup of tea. 

"Surely the library doesn't have to be open this early," Jörmungandr mumbled, blinking awake and raising his head to look at her. Y/N smiled back at him, her e/c eyes twinkling as she peered at him over the rim of her cup. 

"We are receiving a shipment of books from a university all the way from Edinburgh," she replied, blowing lightly on the steaming tea before taking another sip. "They have kindly donated some material from their history department."

"You just want to read them before anyone else does," the serpent remarked, his forked tongue flicking out. 

Y/N grinned. "Are you surprised?" 

Jörmungandr shook his head and lowered it to rest it on his coiled body. "I suppose not. Your own collection of books is growing rather nicely."  


Y/N hummed and finished her tea. 

Jörmungandr watched her from his perch as she flitted around the cottage, gathering the things she would need for the day. While she smiled and laughed with him and lost herself in her work at the village library, there was still something missing. Something that showed itself when the sun sunk below the horizon and their corner of the world went to sleep. Y/N was homesick. She longed for a place that she would never see again and people she did not have a chance to say goodbye to.  


Jörmungandr was sure that he would have been taken as Tallagor had been, had he not hidden in the sleeves of her gown that fateful night.  


The walk from the cottage to the library took them through the village that was only just beginning to wake up.  Y/N hurried along the main street, the soft soles of her slippers making hardly a sound. 

The library was small, suitable for but one librarian. It was a quaint little building with towering shelves that Y/N had spent hours organising when she had first been given the position. Y/N who was now practically bouncing with excitement as she bounded up the stone steps and unlocked the main door. 

Taking a deep breath, she let it out again with a contented smile. Immediately setting her bag down by the desk she would sometimes sit at, she slowly wove through the shelves and inspected her work from the day before. A group of volunteers had come in and had helped her to label a box-full of new arrivals. 

Jörmungandr watched from her shoulder as her hand hovered over one book in particular. A book she never once took off the shelf to read, but one she would always pause beside and gently stroke its spine. A book on Norse Mythology. The pained look in her eyes, mixed with a tender smile was enough to tell Jörmungandr why she never retrieved it.  


Accompanying her through her short journey through the small library, he nearly fell from her shoulders in shock when a hesitant series of knocks sounded on the main doors. One look at her face told him all he needed to know. 

Opening the doors, Y/N greeted the visitor with a bright smile. A smile that only grew in size as she beheld the series of boxes being unloaded from a van that bore the university insignia. 

"Miss Hrókrdóttir?"

Nodding, she held out a hand, "that's me," she replied and gripped the man's hand firmly. 

"I believe you are expecting a shipment of books from the University of Edinburgh history department?"

"Indeed I am," Y/N said. 

"My men and I will carry the boxes in as they are quite heavy." 

Y/N watched with barely concealed glee as box after box was brought in and carefully deposited in the main library. She could barely wait until they had left before kneeling down beside the closest box and opening the flaps. "Oh Jorgi," she breathed, eyes starry. "Look at these." 

Bristling at the nickname, Jörmungandr reemerged from his hiding place and slithered over to her and settled in her lap. "Looks like it wasn't just history books they had," he commented, eyeing the books she pulled out. 

"Legends and folklore are important when learning about a culture," Y/N replied, her gaze landing on a series of books that dealt with the Slavic mythology and a copy of Grimm's fairytales. 

"Our own included?" 

Sighing, she set down the book and adjusted her seating position to cross her legs as she sat on the floor. "You know why I don't read about that, about him," she said softly. 

"Because it hurts?" Jörmungandr asked, his head lightly resting against the lightly scarred skin of her left palm. 

Tears glossed her eyes as she met his gaze. "Beyond measure," she whispered. "I would rather they had executed me. Exile is the slowest death imaginable."

"Maybe one day you'll be able to go back."

Y/N laughed softly and shook her head. "That day will never come, you know that as well as I. You were there when the Allfather banished me from our home. If I go back, if I dare to set foot in Asgard, they will kill me on the spot." 

"Even if you were invited?" Jörmungandr tried again. 

"And who would invite me?" She sighed, her eyes sad. 

"The Allfather?"

"He despises me," she replied and moved to take up the book she had set aside. "I do believe nothing will ever convince him to allow me to come home."

"Not even his son's wedding?" 

Y/N's eyes shot to his. "Prince Thor is to be married?" 

Jörmungandr shook his head. "No," he replied and softened his tone before continuing. "His brother."  


Her heart stopped. It did not beat as she stared at the snake. "I'm sorry?" She whispered.

"Since you have not read the stories the mortals have written about us, I have taken the liberty of doing so myself," Jörmungandr answered. 

"How in the Nine were you able to get access to those?" Y/N asked, confused. "You have no arms."

"I have my ways, but that's not important," Jörmungandr said. "What is important is what those stories say."

"And what do they say?"

Jörmungandr paused a moment before answering. Her heart was visible in her eyes, all the cracks and the sheer fragility of it was as clear as day. "That Prince Loki marries Princess Sigyn of Vanaheim to secure a treaty between the two realms."  


A beat of silence passed before Y/N said anything. "They are just stories," she muttered before standing up, taking Jörmungandr with her. "They are not real."

"You and I hail from a realm that is believed to be fictional," Jörmungandr pointed out kindly. "What reason have you to believe that this will not happen?" 

Y/N shook her head and began to gather the books from the floor. "It can't," she replied, her voice adopting a slight tremor. "It can't." 

Jörmungandr hated himself for the tears he saw gather in her eyes. For the tight set of her jaw as she valiantly fought to contain her emotions and the pain that gripped her heart at the mere notion.  


The remainder of the day passed without incident. The villagers greeted Y/N jovially in the street and warmly asked how her day had fared. They knew her well now and considered her a valuable member of their small community. 

Y/N did not bother to change as she ventured out into her flower garden on their return home. She merely stepped out of her shoes and buried her feet in the soft green grass. Jörmungandr slid from her shoulders to explore the garden as he did every evening. The flowers were in full bloom and filled the early evening air with a plethora of perfumes and scents. 

Her hands trembled as she gently touched the petals of a sunflower. Tall and proud it was, just like him. A choking sob tore from her, a sound she immediately silenced by clamping her lips shut. "Just stories," she whispered. "That is what they are. Just stories." 

~ ~ ~  


"There you are."

Looking up from the book before him, Loki smiled up at the approaching woman. "Here I am."

"I have been looking everywhere for you," she cooed, coming to wrap an arm around his shoulders, not noticing how they tensed ever so slightly. 

"Now that you have found me," he replied, "what is it you wish to speak with me about?" 

"Your mother wishes to speak with you on matters regarding your brother's upcoming birthday celebrations." 

Groaning inwardly, Loki marked his progress in the book and set it aside. 

"I know my love," she said upon hearing his sigh. "But she was most adamant that you be there."

"I do not see why," Loki muttered and leaned back in his chair. 

"Oh come now," his companion murmured, gently carding her elegant ring clad fingers through his hair. "I am sure she has her reasons."

"I suppose you are right," he murmured and sighed in defeat. "Very well, I will go to her." Standing up, he slipped from her grasp and straightened his robes before smoothing his hair and making for the study door. 

A delicate cough stopped him in his tracks. "Surely you are forgetting something?" She asked, fluttering her eyelashes and biting her bottom lip. 

"My apologies," the Prince replied and turned back to her and quickly pecked her on the lips before sweeping from the room. 

She waited until the doors of their chambers closed behind him before leaning against the door frame. He spent more time holed up here than with her. In public he was the perfect husband and they were the picture of the happily married couple that Asgard expected them to be. But Sigyn knew that he was anything but pleased with the arrangement that had bound them a little over a year ago. 

His distant behaviour ought to have bothered her. But it did not, nor did it surprise her. She knew it had been a far fetched idea of him being capable of any emotion other than envy, jealousy, even hatred. A smirk curled her pink lips. Oh well, she knew how to make her own fun. The title of Princess had been hers the day she was born. That title had won her a marriage with one of Asgard's Princes. Though not the one she desired. Not the one that now knocked on her chamber doors. 

With her light blue gown trailing behind her, she went to open the door to admit her lover. Her husband's brother. She knew it was cliche, but the mere notion thrilled her almost as much as his touch did. 

Sigyn valued appearances above all else. How one perceived you was important. If Asgard and Vanaheim believed them to be happily married, then that was all that mattered. She was beautiful and she knew it. Those below her feared her for it and countless suitors fell over themselves to please her. 

Loki watched from the shadows as Thor entered the chambers he had just left. He watched as his wife enveloped his brother in a searing and passionate embrace before the door closed behind the elder Prince.

This was not the first time, that he knew all too well. His dear wife was not as subtle as she believed. 

He smiled sadly before melting into the shadows, a single tear escaping his eyes. The cracks in his heart grew everyday that they were apart. For every month that passed. "Do you think of me?" He whispered, walking among the blooming nightflowers. "Do you allow me to occupy even a tiny sliver of your beautiful mind? I allow myself to ask this of you my love, because you have completely taken over mine. You are all that fills my wretched mind. My twisted thoughts have been replaced by the memory of your sweet voice. The glow in your eyes. The security offered by your arms, I could go on forever." Pausing, he took a ragged breath and cast his eyes up to the sky. "I love you," he gasped, the tears coursing down his cheeks. "I know not where you are and that reality brings me more pain than I care to admit." 

The Prince's admission reached the stars and the one who had created them. The shooting stars that fell that night were as tears and were seen by not only the Prince, but also by the woman he loved. 


	28. Visits of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cannot remove my scars or rewrite the past that haunts me. Just hold me tight and tell me everything is going to be okay. 
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this late update my lovelies but my brain decided that I needed sleep more.

"Have you seen my brother?"

Sigyn shook her head and smiled up at the elder Prince. "I cannot say that I have."

Frowning, Thor ran an agitated hand through his hair. The golden strands hanging past his shoulders. "Where could he be?" He muttered thoughtfully.

"Has something happened?"

"No," Thor replied, "but there is something I wish to speak with him about."

Casting a glance over her shoulder, Sigyn's keen eyes scanned the corridor around them and sighed. "I did see him go to the stables earlier, at least I think he went there."

"The stables?" Thor murmured, what could he possibly be doing there?

"Yes," Sigyn replied and clasped her hands together. "He has never ridden in all the time I have known him, so it always confuses me when he goes there."

"Nevertheless," Thor said, straightening up and smiling softly down at his brother's wife, something within him flinched when he thought of her as such. "I must speak with him," here he paused and lightly brushed her hands with his before stepping back. "I shall see you later?"

The Princess nodded and watched silently as he left, his crimson cloak rippling out behind him. Shaking herself, Sigyn smoothed the invisible creases in her gown and turned on her heel to go in the opposite direction.

Nodding to the courtiers he passed, Thor remained silent as he traced his way to the Royal stables. His brother's piercing gaze gave nothing away, he was adept at hiding his emotions and true feelings, had been for as long as Thor could remember. A gnawing guilt at away at him every time their eyes met or he heard his voice. Loki didn't deserve this, least of all from him. His own brother.

Yet something always drew him back to her. Ever since his relationship with Jane had ended, the elder Prince felt his heart grow numb. Sigyn provided a much needed distraction and Thor knew well that their 'relationship' was nothing more than physical. He knew all too well that his new sister-by-law felt nothing for him, nothing that went beyond the pleasures of the flesh.

There was no denying her beauty. Honey-golden hair that flowed in thick waves down to her waist and clever hazel eyes that rarely missed even the finest detail. Tall and slender she was and moved with an elegance that few possessed. A grace that was only rivaled by the Light Elves of Alfheim. A species rarely seen beyond the boundaries of their realm.

As the stables came into view, his mother's words echoed in his mind.

_"I know that you have been called to Midgard. Take your brother with you when you go. His mind is in need of distraction."_

The Queen's tone had brokered no argument from him. Thor knew that Loki's reacquaintance with the Avengers would be anything but smooth. But even so, his mother's words confused him. For as long as he could remember, Loki had been able distract himself from many things. What made this occasion any different?

Shaking his head and entering the stables, Thor soon located his brother.

Tallagor had been put in a stall that was separate from the other horses and it was before this stall, that Loki sat. He said and did nothing, save for occasionally turning the page of the book he was engrossed in. His surroundings lost to him.

Thor coughed loudly, thus announcing his presence.

Loki looked up at the sound and acknowledged Thor's presence with a curt nod before going back to his book. "What do you want brother?"

"I am to go to Midgard," Thor began.

"My congratulations," Loki drawled, not looking up from the page. "Do give your new friends my regards."

"There will be no need," Thor continued. "For you will be coming with me."

Silence followed his words. A silence in which Loki looked up a second time, only now he marked his place and closed the book. "What?" He hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Mother wishes for you to accompany me."

"Does she now?"

Thor nodded. "Indeed."

"And does Odin know of her decision?"

"I do not recall her mentioning that he did," Thor replied and folded his arms. "You know as well as I that tensions have been running high between them."

Oh yes. Loki knew that all too well. As did the rest of Asgard. "Why does she ask this?"

Thor shrugged his shoulders. "She believes you to be in need of distraction."

Loki scoffed and reopened the book. "I do not need the company of mortals to do something I am perfectly capable of doing myself. Least of all the ones you are to meet."

"While I find myself in agreeance with your words," Thor replied, "mother has insisted upon it."

"I wonder why," the younger Prince muttered to himself. Laying his book to the side, he stood and crossed the short distance between himself and the towering stallion.

Thor watched silently as his brother rested a hand on the horse's muzzle in a manner that could almost be described as tender.

"I will return soon," Thor heard him whisper. "You have my word." Thor watched in amazement as the horse closed its eyes as Loki leaned forward and touched his forehead to the horse's.

The exchange over, Loki turned and faced his brother. "How long am I to suffer their company?"

Thor chuckled and shook his head. "Not long I'll wager, the call did not sound all that urgent."

"Then let us go," Loki replied, "the sooner we go, the sooner we may return."

~ ~ ~

Broken glass and paperwork littered the floor of the Queen's study. The usually immaculate space now bore the evidence of the Allfather's outrage. Frigga was absent from the room, claiming that some other business required her urgent and immediate attention.

They barely shared the same room for more than five minutes. This behaviour from her was bordering on two whole years and even the servants were whispering among themselves. If Frigga knew of this, she made not a single mention of it. She behaved as she always had around everyone, aside from her own husband.

It was no secret that the relationship between the two monarchs was strained.

Surveying the destruction he had wrought, Odin could not help but remember their conversation that day...

_"Why did you not tell me of this sooner?" Frigga demanded the moment the doors of her study closed behind them._

_"It has been settled between our two families," Odin explained, "her father agreed to the terms we set-"_

_"No," Frigga interrupted, "the terms_ you _set. You kept me out of this. Why? Were we not meant to make these decisions together?"_

_"Your reaction now tells me that I made the correct decision."_

_"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked, eyes widening a fraction in shock. "I am not opposed to arranged marriages, they strengthen alliances, I know that."_

_"Then why is this one so different?"_

_"Because you did not consult with me about it. He is our son, Odin. Do you not think I ought to have a say in the planning of his future?"_

_The King sighed and ran a tired hand down his face._

_"Did he know of this before today?"_

_Odin shook his head, thus earning a muttered curse from his wife, something she rarely did, if ever._

_"If there was anyone who ought to have known about this aside from me, it should have been him," the Queen said, folding her arms. "Does he not deserve the chance to know whom he will marry before the announcement of their betrothal?"_

_"He will have time to become acquainted with her in the weeks preceding the ceremony."_

_"I have but one question for you," Frigga said and narrowed her eyes. "Why?"_

_"I am afraid I do not quite understand."_

_"Why Loki?" Frigga explained. "If this marriage was solely for the betterment of both Asgard and Vanaheim, then surely it would have been better to affiance Sigyn to Thor. He will inherit the throne after all."_

_When her husband's silence answered her, she grew suspicious._

_"Shall we make an announcement saying that you made a mistake?" She asked, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands before her._

_"No."_

_Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. "Then why?"_

_Odin looked up and met his wife's gaze as he answered. "Because Thor does not need to forget. He may have broken things off with the mortal, but he has since moved forward."_

_Frigga stared at him as the words sunk in. Did he really just say what she believed he did? "And what do you wish for him to forget?"_

_"Frigga please, you know of what I speak. Of whom."_

_Blinking back the tears that stung her eyes, the Queen turned away, thus facing the windowed wall of her study. "You truly believe that this marriage will achieve that?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper._

_"I am confident of it, yes."_

_Nodding, Frigga bowed her head and swallowed hard. "Does his happiness mean so little to you?" She whispered, turning to face him again. "That you would have him forget the woman he loves?"_

_"It is what is best."_

_"For whom?" Frigga demanded, "it must be for you. Because it cannot be for him."_

_"With time," Odin said, "you will see that I am right."_

_The smile she sent him lacked all the warmth her smiles usually bore. "That span of time does not exist." Her eyes were desperately sad as she met her husband's gaze. "He will never forget. No matter what you try to do."_

That had been the last conversation between them for quite some time now. Frigga had yet to forgive him for what transpired in the canyons.

In the broken glass on the wooden floor, he saw not his own reflection, but the disappointment in his wife's eyes. Usually soft and filled with warmth whenever they looked at him, were now cold and void of any discernible emotion.

"My liege?" A guard's voice interrupted his thoughts and pulled him back to the present.

"Yes?"

The guard bowed as his King turned to him. "It has been reported that Prince Loki accompanied Prince Thor to Midgard."

"Send for the Queen," Odin replied, "I wish to speak with her, bring her to the throne room."

Bowing, the guard took his leave.

His thoughts ran blindingly quick as he made his way to the hall-like chamber. Did Frigga somehow find out? But how?

It was not long before she entered the throne room after him. The looming doors closed silently behind her, leaving the couple alone. "You asked to see me?"

"Yes," he replied and narrowed his good eye.

"Well?"

"I have it on good authority that when Thor left for Midgard, he was not alone. Accompanied by none other than Loki himself."

Frigga it seemed, was fighting a smile. "I have been made aware," she said simply. "As I was the one who suggested to Thor that he take his brother."

"And you did not think to tell me?"

"As you told me of his betrothal?" Frigga shot back. Folding her arms, she lifted her chin. "He needs this time away."

"What he _needs_ is to be here with his wife," Odin replied.

"One that you forced on him," the Queen hissed. "Or have you forgotten?"

Odin said nothing in reply.

Nodding curtly, Frigga spun on her heals and swept from the room, her head held high.

~ ~ ~

"I have a good feeling about today."

Y/N raised an eyebrow and smirked at Jörmungandr's words. "Do you just?" Lifting the tea strainer from the steaming mug, she set it aside before blowing on her tea to cool it. "And what makes today so special?" 

The snake said nothing at first, merely humming in response. 

Shaking her head, Y/N set her mug down on the library desk and deactivated the computer's screensaver. It was an old machine, but one that worked just fine for what she needed it for. 

"I don't know," Jörmungandr piped up from his spot by the window, the sun warming his scales. "Today just has a good feeling to it."

Y/N laughed softly. "Or as the mortals would say, it has a good 'vibe'?" 

"Indeed," Jörmungandr replied and winked. "And look at you, picking up on the way they speak." 

"I have been here for almost two years," she reminded him, "it would have happened sooner or later."

"I suppose so," the serpent muttered and settled down to soak in the sunlight. The sound of Y/N typing away soon lulled him to sleep. 

Looking over at the silence, Y/N smiled to herself as she gazed at the dozing reptile. She was right glad of his company. 

Standing up from her desk, she wondered through the shelves, gently running her hands along the books she passed. Her village back on Asgard did not have a library, but her mother always managed to make sure that she and Vídarr had plenty of books to read. 

Tracing her steps back to her desk, she resumed her work and finished the tea that had now grown cold. 

The day passed them by in a slow, peaceful fashion and soon the clock on the wall indicated that it was indeed time to close the small library for the day. Making sure Jörmungandr was draped securely across her shoulders, Y/N turned the key in the lock and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. 

As the days were gradually growing warmer, she now wore a long dress that skimmed her ankles and left her shoulders bare. Simple sandals adorned her feet, not unlike a pair she owned back on Asgard. Floral earrings swung from her ears and occasionally brushed against her neck as she moved. 

Her hair thankfully was long enough to cover the pointed tips of her ears. 

"Good afternoon lass," the village's green grocer called out, waving to her. 

Y/N smiled and waved back. "Good afternoon James." 

And so she went, stopping occasionally to speak with a few of her neighbors before finally crossing the threshold onto her property. Stopping briefly to check the mailbox, she pulled out the plastic covered newspaper that came every afternoon. 

Tucking it under her arm, Y/N ambled into her home and set a sleeping Jörmungandr gently on the kitchen counter and hung her bag on the back of a chair. Setting the newspaper down, she shuffled into the kitchen to brew herself yet another cup of tea. Lavender and rose. 

Disposing of the used leaves and blowing on her tea, Y/N took up the rolled newspaper and settled herself on the small sofa. Setting the cup down on the small table that reached her knees, Y/N set about unwrapping the paper. 

Smoothing out the paper, she threw the plastic wrapping on the table before looking down at the printed sheet in her lap. 

Jörmungandr woke to find that they were no longer at the library but home again. The kitchen in which he lay was empty. It was however, a gasp from the living area that alerted him to Y/N's whereabouts.  


Turning in her direction, he saw her sitting on the sofa, the fresh tea sitting abandoned on the coffee table. Y/N's face had lost all its colour and she was covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes wide and tear-filled. 

Alarmed, he slithered to her. "What is it?" He asked gently.

Jörmungandr saw her hand tremble as she lowered it to rest on the page before her. Unsure of what she was trying to do, he followed her actions with his eyes and felt his jaw drop at what he saw.  


" **WAR CRIMINAL TO FINALLY FACE JUSTICE?** "

But it was not the title, as shocking as it was, that caught their disbelieving eyes. But the photos below them. In full colour they were. 

"Is that?" Jörmungandr whispered shocked and glanced up at Y/N. 

She nodded. "I think so," she replied softly, eyes glued to the images before them. With trembling fingers she traced his face and the foreign clothes he wore. A suit of black that complemented his hair beautifully and stood in beautiful contrast to his pale complexion and stunning emerald eyes. He was surrounded by a group of individuals that she vaguely recognised and of course, Thor. The brothers stood close together and he looked less than pleased to be there. 

"But what is he doing here?" Jörmungandr murmured. 

Y/N didn't answer. The tears finally spilled over and ran down her cheeks, only to drop onto the paper below. "Sire," she said softly and felt her heart leap and twist within her. It was bittersweet, seeing him there. So close and yet still so far away. 


	29. Moonlight halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always been him  
> She smiled  
> Our souls just dance the same. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

The rain did not soothe him as it had done so many times in the past. Its soft pattering against the glass only served to remind him of his wakefulness. The ceiling above him was black and would remain so until the sun rose.

It seemed that sleep would not visit him that night. Yet, as he stared upwards, features began to form and even when he blinked, they remained. First it was a pair of eyes, faint but most definitely there. The e/c of them stood in soft contrast to the dark surrounding them. Next it was the elegant shape of a nose, curved and utterly perfect. Then, the mouth. The small scars left by the wire that had silenced her were easily visible. Even in the darkness of the room, her brand was easily seen, the harsh red lines marring her skin and pulling lightly down on her left eye.

She smiled as she had that night in the cave. His body wracked with poison. Her voice had been like her smile, soft, gentle and sad. But now she said nothing. Silent as the apparition she was.

"I have not given up," he said softly, wanting desperately to reach up. "I have not forgotten you." _I could never forget you._

Sitting up with a soft groan, the Prince looked to the window. The lights of the city beyond shone soft and distorted through the wet glass. Slipping from the bed, he padded over to where his cloak was folded neatly. From within its folds he drew a book. It was a small plain one, the title was faded and barely legible. Still, it was an old favourite of his. Taking the book with him, Loki sat by the window, the carpet soft enough to sit on without a cushion.

With the lights of the city to see by, he opened the book and smiled faintly at where he had marked the page. Something within him drove him to speak the words, letting them whisper out into the otherwise empty room.

_" When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,_   
_I all alone beweep my outcast state_   
_And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries_   
_And look upon myself and curse my fate,_   
_Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_   
_Featured like him, like him with friends possess’d,_   
_Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,_   
_With what I most enjoy contented least; "_

Lifting his eyes from the written words, Loki looked out to the city beyond. The very same that he had nearly decimated not five years prior. While his arrival had been met with no small amounts of unease, the city had quickly settled while keeping him at an arm's length.

Setting the book to the side, he stood and quickly left the room. If FRIDAY was aware of his movements, she made no sound to alert the others. Quietly, he made his way to the very top storey of the tower and pushed open the door that led to the roof.

Gentle, but steady rain greeted him and soaked him to the bone in a matter of seconds. Lifting his face to the night sky, Loki closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. No stars greeted him as he opened his eyes. _Light pollution_ , that was what Stark had called it. Too much artificial light. The moon shone faintly high above him.

"Where there is a moon, stars are also," he repeated her words softly and smiled sadly. "They are hidden from me," he spoke into the night, hoping his words would somehow reach her. "As you are."

The rain hid his tears and let them mingle with those of the heavens. Walking until his bare feet touched the roof's edge, the Prince then felt his knees give way. By the roof's edge he knelt, the rain pouring down around him.

Bowing his head, he whispered the remaining lines of the poem out into the night.

 _" Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_  
 _Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_  
 _Like to the lark at break of day arising_  
 _From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;_  
 _For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings  
_ _That then I scorn to change my state with kings."  
_

His breaths heaved through him, his shoulders rising and falling with each one. A light throbbing in his left hand drew his attention down and he saw a soft light emanate from the crescent shape. So gently did it pulse that he believed he had imagined it, until it grew stronger. The pulse was stronger, but still mild. It felt so very familiar, though he could not place where he had felt it before.

_"You carry her heart in your hands."_

Those words, spoken to him in a frozen forest. Words he believed were purely sentimental. Cradling his hand close, Loki peered closer at the mark. Gingerly tracing the mark, he felt it move beneath his touch. The beat of a heart. Her heart. He had felt it as she had lain against him as he took them from the palace. It was as steady then as it was now. Lifting his gaze, he saw the stars glimmer into view and despite the rain and the city's own lighting, they shone brightly.

Around him, the rain began to lessen to a drizzle, until it eventually stopped completely and the sounds of traffic floated up to him. The air before him began to shift and shimmer, the patch growing to twice his size.

Pushing himself to his feet, Loki canted his head to the side as he examined the shimmering air. He was no fool, he knew what that was. Or at least what it appeared to be. As he watched it, the soft laughter of children seemed to come from within it. Words spoken too softly for him to understand, but the voice he knew well. His hand trembled as he held it out, reaching towards the portal. Fresh tears burned behind his eyes as she spoke again, soft as though comforting another.

"Y/N?" He choked out. "Y/N?" Would she hear him? Was this even real?

"Away from the edge if you please."

Loki groaned at the sound of Captain Rogers's voice. Clenching his outstretched hand into a fist and dropping it to his side, he turned to face the assembled group behind him. All of whom were still wearing what they had worn to bed.

Thor was looking at his brother in confusion. "Loki?"

He ignored him. He ignored them all. At his back he could feel it, feel her. She was laughing now, the sound like windchimes in a soft breeze.

"Did anyone else hear that?" Stark piped up. "That laughing."

"You're hearing things Tony," the Widow replied. "Its late and you're still half asleep."

"Get away from the edge," Barton repeated Rogers's words.

"Or what?" Loki taunted. "There is little you can do to me that has not already been done."

"Brother please," Thor stepped forward and held out a placating hand. "Step away."

"And if I do not?"

Thor sighed, but it was Stark who spoke up. "Then unfortunately for you, and fortunately for me and for the rest of us, we will be forced to enact certain measures."

"Is that so?" Loki asked, folding his arms and lifting his chin. "And what might they be?"

"Why spoil the surprise?" Stark replied grinning.

Silence settled over the group. Silence that was soon broken. Broken by nothing more than a single word, as soft as wind passing through leaves. "Sire?"

The whole group froze. Thor's eyes widened as he looked past his brother. "Was that?" He breathed, looking back to Loki.

The younger Prince nodded. "I believe so," he replied, his voice lightly strained.

"So we all heard it this time?" Tony asked.

The whole group nodded.

"Just what is happening here?" Clint spoke up from beside Natasha, his narrowed eyes focusing solely on Loki.

"Something that does not concern you," Loki stated calmly and called forth a tunic and a light coat. The garments appeared on him in a soft shimmer of green. Leather boots now clad his once bare feet.

"Brother surely," Thor tried to reason. "It would not be right for you to go."

"Right?" Loki laughed, the sound echoing around them. "You are the very last to merit speaking to me on such a thing," he hissed as his laughter died.

Thor felt himself grow pale at his brother's words. Of course he knew, he was naive to believe he did not.

"You have a wife," the elder Prince whispered harshly. "You are married now."

"Indeed," Loki replied and smiled coldly. "I have not forgotten. But it seems you have."

"Brother-"

"No," Loki cut him off softly. "No," he repeated, shaking his head. "Speak to Odin if you must, but let me go. Let me go to her."

Standing on the sidelines, the Avengers watched the brothers converse. The entire conversation was hushed.

"I cannot do that," Thor murmured, "you know that."

"Do I?" Loki hissed, folding his arms. "And by what means have I come to know-" a bolt of searing pain lanced through his palm, cutting off his words with a pained gasp. Driving him to his knees. Uncurling his left hand, he looked down and saw that the mark had taken on a sickly red hue. Gritting his teeth, he gingerly touched the mark and hissed as it stung on contact.

"What in seven hells just happened?" Tony demanded, marching over to the kneeling Prince.

Loki ignored him. His eyes were focused on the mark, his vision soon began to swim as tears burned like acid in his eyes. Something was happening to her. She was hurting and he was helpless to stop it.

"Brother," Thor spoke softly, kneeling down beside his sibling. "What is it? What has happened?"

"She needs me," came the whispered reply as Loki staggered to his feet and swayed dangerously before righting his footing. "She needs me and Norns! I know not where she is."

"She?" Steve asked quietly, "do we know her?"

Thor shook his head and stood. "She is not known to anyone here," he replied and glanced at his brother. His brother whose shoulders were heaving with every breath. His brother whose eyes were fixed on the distant moon, his tears distorting the pale orb.

"Who is she?" Natasha asked, genuinely curious.

"A young woman from our realm," Thor explained.

"What is she? Some kind of Princess?"

Thor shook his head, his lips pressed in a grim line. "No," he said, "she bore no title. No wealth or station. She is a commoner and one that my father banished."

"Wait," Tony cut in, "hold up a sec. Are you telling me that your high and mighty, arrogant ass of a brother fell for a peasant?"

Thor nodded and folded his arms. "I'm afraid so."

"Why was she banished?" Steve asked, stepping forward. "What did she do?"

"She committed high treason."

Thor's answer silenced the group and they exchanged looks of shock and surprise.

"A traitor huh?" Clint muttered, "perfect fit for him then."

The portal shimmered before him. Silently inviting him, urging him. His legs moved of their own accord and carried him once more to the roof's edge. One foot was on the ledge before a firm hand clamped on his shoulder, intent on pulling him back.

Loki was having none of it. After an eternity of not knowing, she was finally within arm's reach. There was no chance in Hel that he would give that up without a fight. The hand, it seemed, belonged to none other than his dear brother. Summoning a dagger, he plunged it deep and watched for a brief moment as Thor stumbled from him, clutching his side.

The mortals seemed to take this as their chance and dove right in.

The fight was vicious. Clones of the Trickster Prince confused the Avengers, each not knowing which was the real Loki. His laughter and taunts echoed all around them, surrounding them as he slipped through their grasp.

Cloaking himself from Heimdall's gaze, he took a deep steadying breath and leapt. The shimmering air of the portal embraced him and faded the moment he passed through.

~ ~ ~

Muttering curses to herself for her clumsiness, Y/N padded back to her desk, a fresh cup of tea in her hands. Her left hand was still smarting from where the boiling hot water had spilled. The red skin kept drawing her eye back to it.

"Had a little accident in the kitchen did we?"

Glaring over her shoulder at the snake, Y/N bit back a retort. Jörmungandr grinned back at her and adjusted his position on the sun-drenched window sill. 

For the remainder of the day her hand throbbed lightly, each movement causing a slight stinging sensation. After making sure that no one was entering the library, she murmured a quick healing spell. The cooling effects of the magic made her sigh with relief. 

Not a trace of the burn was left. The same however, could not be said for her palm. The skin was rough with scar tissue. While it had been healed with her magic, the injury had refused to disappear. It remained there, stark and noticeable.

"I did tell you that their skin burns," Jörmungandr piped up, clearly having seen what Y/N was looking at. 

Y/N simply nodded. The stories regarding the Jotuns made them out to be monsters and creatures uglier than a bilgesnipe. But he had been none of those things. Even in pain he had been beautiful. More than any creature in such state ought to be. 

He was no monster. Even if the mortals of Midgard were determined to paint him as such. Yes, she had seen him fight and kill. She knew how dangerous and deadly he could be. But nothing, in the short time she had known him, had ever even remotely hinted at the maniacal tendencies that he was accused of having. 

Fate was a cruel thing. To see him there and to know that that was the closest she would ever get to him.

Blinking, Y/N shook her head, reluctantly pushing those thoughts to the side. It would get her nowhere. No amount of wishing would allow her to return home.

Looking up at the clock, she saw that only a few minutes remained before she was to lock up for the day. Running a tired hand down her face, she stood up from her desk and made to close the windows she always opened in the morning.

Pausing by the last window, Y/N rested her forehead against the frame and breathed in deeply. The scent of the flowers growing outside drifted in and made her smile before she stepped back and closed the window.

The soft sounds had roused Jörmungandr from the nap he had decided to take. He blinked sleepily up at her, making her chuckle as she scooped him up and lay him over her shoulders. 

Slinging her bag over her shoulder and making certain that everything was as it should be, she slipped out, passing by the small kitchen to rinse out her cup. 

Her simple white dress danced lightly in the afternoon breeze as she locked the library door. The light blue scarf she wore in her hair trailed down her back with its loose ends and complemented her simple choice of silver hooped earrings rather nicely. 

Concealed, he watched her. How she moved. How she spoke with those she passed by, a smile at the ready and perhaps even a light laugh that sent his heart stuttering. The lingering heat of the day soon caused perspiration to bead on her forehead. Silently he followed. He knew in that moment, that he would be able to watch her for eternity. 

It was the simple cracking of a branch that gave him away. He watched as she stopped and stood still for a brief moment before slowly turning around. 

She swore she heard something. But before her stood no one. "Am I imagining things again?" She whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. The incident earlier that day flashed into her mind. She had been so certain that she had heard her name being called. But when she responded, voice soft and trembling, she had been answered by silence. 

"I certainly hope not." 

A rather undignified shriek left her lips before she quickly covered her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. Lowering her hand and licking her lips, she spoke. "Sire?" She asked hesitantly. Her chest heaved with her attempts to calm herself. 

Nodding, Loki took a step closer. "Indeed," he replied and smiled softly. 

Y/N felt her bottom lip begin to tremble. "Are you truly here?" She managed to ask. 

To her surprise, he held out a hand. "Take it," he replied. "Take it and see for yourself." 

With her vision beginning to blur with tears, Y/N stared at him. Her gaze flicking between his hand and his face. His eyes seemed to plead with her. 

"Please," he whispered desperately. "Please take my hand, and make me whole." 

"Sire?" Y/N asked, confused. 

"What must I do?" He asked, "what must I do to convince you that I am here? That I have finally found you."

"Found me?" She repeated and swallowed hard. "You were looking for me?" 

Chuckling, Loki took a step closer and noticed that she did not back away. "Of course I was," he replied. 

"But why?" 

"Do you really not know?" 

Y/N shook her head and looked down. 

"Look at me," he instructed gently. "Please."

Surprised at his gentle tone, she did as asked. 

"How could I not search for you?" He said softly and raised a hand to cup her scarred cheek. "Did you really believe I had forgotten you? I could never forget you." Pausing, he smiled down at her and softly traced the lines of her brand with his thumb. "Because of you," he continued, "I have realised my wrongs. And I have tried to become a better person. Please, I beg of you, do not leave me. We have come so far and I cannot bear to be without you."

Y/N's tearful eyes met his. Raising a trembling hand, she held his against her cheek and smiled up at him. "You like me then Sire?" 

"Like you?" Loki repeated, and shook his head. "Oh no. I could never like you. No. You are a woman of great importance to me," reaching up with his free hand, he held her face ever so gently. "I could never like you, for I have loved you since first glance."

"You love me?" She repeated breathlessly. "Me?" 

Throwing his head back, the Prince laughed. Looking back to her, he nodded. "Thief of my heart," he whispered tenderly. 

She could not stop the tears that broke free. "And keeper of mine," she replied before turning her face slightly, her lips brushing softly over the skin of his wrist. 

Loki watched her with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Never would he have thought that there was another soul out there that was destined to fall for his. A heart for him to capture and guard as the most precious treasure he possessed. " _Ayla,"_ he murmured.  


The question in her eyes was one he had anticipated, so before she could so much as ask, he touched their foreheads together. "Moonlight halo," he explained, the words brushing over her lips. 

"Moonlight halo," she repeated softly and smiled. "That is very beautiful Sire."

"As you are," he replied before touching his lips to hers. 

She was hesitant at first. But each touch of his lips against her own ignited a fire within her and soon had her responding with a fervour that surprised her and amused him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself impossibly closer.

Breaking away and panting lightly, Loki spoke, sound breathless as he did so. "Do you love me?" He asked, a strange desperation in his emerald eyes. "I need to know the truth."

A stab of hurt lanced through her heart at the vulnerability in his eyes. Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Aye Sire," she replied, voice heavy with emotion. "I do-" her words were soon cut off as he leaned down and devoured her lips with a ravenous, burning kiss. A kiss that branded their words onto the hearts of the other. Never to be erased. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recited sonnet is Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare.


	30. Jealousy's poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was not for everyone, but she was for me.
> 
> ~ Atticus

The bifrost heralded his return. If the gatekeeper noticed the strange absence of the younger Prince, he said nothing. He merely nodded to Thor in acknowledgement. "Your father the King awaits you," he said.

"Does he know of Loki's disappearance?" Thor asked.

Heimdall shook his head. "Your brother has cloaked himself. My sight cannot catch him, nor my power find him."

Nodding stiffly, Thor left the observatory and went out onto the bridge, the lights shimmering beneath him. Looking up towards the Capital, he sighed. Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way to the citadel.

Loki's sudden disappearance did not sit well with him. Odin would be furious, Thor knew that. But where his brother had gone, he could only guess. But what he did know, was that where Loki was, Y/N was bound to be too. For nigh on two years now, her location had remained a secret. Known to no one save the Allfather and Heimdall. How Loki had come to know of her location, Thor did not know. All he knew now, was that trouble loomed on the horizon like a storm cloud. Black, rumbling and menacing.

Upon entering the palace courtyard, Thor nodded to the passing guards and those that stood guard outside the palace's main doors. Stepping through, Thor made his way through the corridors and headed for the throne room.

Did Sigyn know of Y/N? Had she heard the stories that had refused to die down? The whole of Asgard knew of the elf that had restored the shield and protected the realm, and deceived the King and both Princes, wearing an appearance that was not her own. Thor prayed that Sigyn paid them no mind, least of all to the ones that concerned his brother's concern for Y/N. Sigyn was easily made jealous. Her possessive nature often leading her to the extremes.

Despite the efforts made by the King, Y/N refused to be wiped from existence. Though absent, she had been present in the stories told about her. The Allfather had been determined to rid the realm of all those that dared to sympathise with her, or even mourn her in her exile.

Her family included.

Shaking his head, Thor cleared his throat and kept walking, soon coming to the looming doors of the throne room. Upon entering, he saw his father waiting for him, as Heimdall had said.

"While my heart is gladdened on your return," Odin said, breaking the silence. "It is earlier than expected."

"Indeed it is father," Thor replied, rising from where he had knelt before the throne. "Complications arose of such a severity that I dared not stay a moment longer."

"And would these _complications_ have anything to do with Loki's absence?"

Thor nodded. "I regrettably believe so."

"How might he be involved?" Odin asked, leaning forward. "What has he done?"

Thor did not answer right away. Adjusting his grip on his hammer's handle, he finally spoke. "I do believe that Loki has found her."

The King said nothing. The silence that fell was heavy and was quickly becoming uncomfortable. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his spear. Frigga's words echoed in his memory. _"He will never forget. No matter what you try to do."_ They taunted him, reminding him yet again of how little he knew Loki. And how well Frigga did.

"Y/N," he muttered, "Y/N Hrókrdóttir. A name I had hoped never to speak again."

"Father?"

"Even if Loki has found her," Odin continued. "She is bound on pain of death to remain where she is. And Loki is now married. Bound by sacred oaths to another woman."

"Where was she sent?" Thor asked. "Father please. If he knows, as I believe he does, then what harm will there be in telling me?"

Sighing, the King nodded. "I suppose you are right," he replied, resigned. "She was sent to Midgard."

"Midgard?" Thor repeated. "But I-" he cut himself off as realisation dawned. "Did he know?"

Odin shook his head. "No one knew of her location save for me and Heimdall. How Loki has come to know, I know not."

"Then he _has_ found her," Thor murmured thoughtfully.

"What makes you so sure?"

"We heard her," Thor explained. "Loki, myself and the Avengers. Loki's reaction told me all I needed to know as her voice came from the portal behind us. He told me that he cared not if I were to tell you. His thoughts were with her, as I suspect they have been for some time now."

"Norns!" Odin swore under his breath. "What did she say?"

"Only one word," Thor replied.

"What was it?"

"Sire."

"Did Loki create that portal?"

Thor shook his head. "I do not believe so. No."

"Well someone, or something did," the King muttered. "And whoever they are, they are living on borrowed time."

"You would kill to prevent him from finding her?" Thor asked, horrified.

"And much more," Odin replied. "Your mother claims that he loves her," pausing, he shook his head. "That boy does not know the meaning of the word." Sighing, he looked to the ceiling with his good eye. "His soul is too wretched and tainted to be loved by another, to be able to love another."

Thor was shocked at how his father spoke of Loki. Shaking his head, he said softly, "you would not say such things if you had seen him when she spoke. One word from her and his whole demeanour changed."

"Your mother must not be made aware of this," Odin said. "Under no circumstances is she to know."

Before Thor could so much as ask why, the King swept from the room, leaving his son stunned, confused and speechless.

In her chambers, Frigga felt the sting of tears. A smile accompanied them, for they were to be happy tears. Stepping away from the image in the water basin, she moved to sit by the window. "You found her," she whispered as the first tear fell. "You found her."

However, the next tear was not one of joy, but of grief. A grief that, when Y/N was told the news, could in no way compare. That day was forever branded in the Queen's memory, Loki's reaction too. In truth, she had seen only the aftermath. The rooms were in ruins and in the centre of it all, was Loki. He did not stand, but knelt. He knelt in the ash and amidst the broken glass. His eyes, when he had looked up at her, were shining with the tears that had yet to streak his cheeks as their predecessors had.

Shaking herself, Frigga pushed those memories to the side. In the palette of grey that had become her world, a splash of colour had now been added. Y/N. A woman so different to the one Loki was bound to. It was unfair, Frigga knew that, to compare the two. Yet she did not have to will to stop herself from doing so. She knew well of Sigyn's indiscretions and she feared Loki did too. Never was there someone more ill suited to be his wife.

Grimacing at the mere thought of her, Frigga stood and smoothed her hands down her gown. No. At last there was some happiness to be had and if no one else would be, then she would at least be happy for him.

Upon leaving her chambers, Frigga lifted her chin and did not restrain the smile that curved her lips.

With her hands dancing along the floral hedge, Sigyn found herself lost in thought. Rumours had reached her ears of Thor's return, sans his brother. If these rumours were to be believed, she had yet to see him. He had not sought her out, as she had hoped he would.

The day was a beautiful one. It was early autumn and the leaves were beginning to change colour. Taking a lungful of the cooling air, Sigyn made her way back inside. If Thor would not come to her, then she would seek him out herself.

Paying little mind to the guards and servants she passed, Sigyn strode through the palace. If they did their duties and did not stand in her way, then she sought no quarrel with them. She was, however, forced to listen to a conversation between two maids who were cleaning a nearby staircase.

"It has been quite some time since she was like that," said one as she diligently scrubbed the stone railings.

"Yes," her companion hummed in agreement. "It is nice though. She is quite beautiful when she smiles."

The other maid chuckled. "Remember of whom you are speaking, Isabel."

"Surely it is no crime to say that one's Queen is beautiful?" The maid, Isabel replied.

Sigyn frowned at the maid's words. In all her time at the Aesir palace, never once had she seen its Queen smile. She had heard stories of Queen Frigga's warmth and motherly disposition towards her subjects. She had begun to think that they were merely that. Stories. There had never been any sincerity in the emotions she had displayed towards Sigyn and she was terribly cold towards her husband, the King.

"No, I suppose it isn't," the nameless maid murmured, bringing Sigyn back to the present. "But you must be careful who hears you. It is not our place to remark on the royal family."

"What do you suppose caused it?" Isabel asked, moving onto the next railing.

"It is not a question of what," her companion replied. "But who."

"Well?" Isabel asked, curious and bordering on impatient.

"I heard that it has something to do with His Highness, Prince Loki."

"That is hardly surprising," Isable murmured thoughtfully. "Everyone knows Her Majesty favours him."

"Hush," her friend hissed. "Or do you wish to end up like that elf's family?"

Isabel rolled her eyes. "I am hardly sympathising with the woman," she replied and wrung out her rag. "All I am saying is that it is common knowledge that the Queen likes Prince Loki more."

Sigyn narrowed her eyes as she continued to listen. Oh yes. She had heard the stories spread about the traitorous light elf. The stories were hardly flattering and she was glad she had never met her. But what did she have to do with Sigyn's husband? The Princess paled as a spike of jealously pierced her heart. Forcing herself to remain silent, she strained her ears to listen beyond the blood rushing in her ears.

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Isabel asked, voice softer this time.

Her friend shook her head. "I don't think so. They said she was exiled and if she ever came back, she would die."

"Norns," Isabel whispered and sighed. "I cannot even imagine what that must be like, not ever being able to go home again."

"Let's hope you never have to," her colleague replied. "I have heard that it is a fate worse than death. Cut off from everything and everyone she loves."

Isabel was silent for a moment and Sigyn made to leave when the maid's words stopped her. "Does that include Prince Loki?"

"Are you mad?" The other maid whispered harshly. "You should know better than to believe such stories. His Highness is married and that is that."

Sigyn stumbled back a few steps before regaining her footing. Fleeing down the hallway, she only stopped as her lungs began to burn. Leaning heavily against the wall, Sigyn ground her teeth. What did it truly matter if that elf was in love with her husband? It was not as if she was ever coming back. It was likely that Loki would never see her again. And it wasn't as if he had returned those feelings. Had he? The maids had said nothing that confirmed or denied it.

There was but one person who would know and would be willing to speak with her. Turning on her heal, she made for the Crown Prince's chambers. The doors stood slightly open and she let herself in.

Thor looked up at her entry and nodded. "Sigyn."

"Where is he?" She demanded, folding her arms. "Where is my husband?"

At her words, Thor sighed heavily. "So you too have heard."

"Heard what?" Sigyn asked, stepping closer. "That Loki did not return with you?"

Thor nodded. "Indeed," the word hung between them as he moved to stand by the fireplace in which a steady fire burned.

"So where is he?" Sigyn asked, following him and standing before him. "I did not think he liked Midgard. He finds the mortals distasteful. I cannot imagine that that would be where he is."

Thor met her gaze head on. "And yet, that is where he is."

"Dare I ask why?" The Princess asked, narrowing her eyes. "What has driven him to remain in a realm he loathes? Is it that traitorous she-elf?"

"I had hoped you were not aware of her," Thor replied and sat down in one of the plush armchairs. "I had hoped you had ignored the gossip."

"Everyone knows," Sigyn replied. "The palace is ripe with such talk. Such stories. They do not paint her well."

"No," Thor murmured. "No they do not."

"You have not yet answered my question."

Thor looked up at her, his brother's wife and raised a blond eyebrow. "Why do you act as though you care Sigyn? You do not love him, believe me, I know what love looks like."

"From your own experience? Or from seeing it elsewhere?"

"Both," came the reply.

"I care," she replied, "because should the rumours be true and should you say that he is there, with her, then all I have worked for will be for nothing."

"All you have worked for?" Thor repeated. "And what might that be? The lie that you and my brother are happy? That lie?"

"The public believes it," Sigyn retorted. "My parents and the whole of Vanaheim believe it, the whole of Asgard too. That is all that matters."

When Thor laughed, it was an empty, humourless sound. "Is that all that really matters to you? Appearances? How you are seen by others?"

"Do not belittle it," she hissed. "We are royalty, of course it is."

"So this jealousy of yours does not stem from the fear that you might lose your husband," Thor murmured, "but from how it might disrupt the image of yourself that you have created here."

"My jealousy has no merit," Sigyn said, lifting her chin and looking down at him. "It is not as if she is able to return, or that her affections are returned."

"I would not be so sure if I were you," Thor said, standing back up and crouching before the fire.

"She will be coming back?"

Thor glanced over his shoulder. "My father will never allow her to return."

"Are you telling me that my husband _likes_ that creature?" Sigyn bit out, not daring to believe it.

"Liking is too milder a word," Thor replied and smiled thinly. "When I told you that I knew what love looked like, it was because I had seen it in my brother's eyes when he looked at her or spoke of her. Even if her name was so much as mentioned in brief passing."

Sigyn clenched her teeth and curled her hands into fists. "It is a good thing she will never set foot here again," she whispered. "For had the Allfather not sworn to kill her on sight, then I most surely would have."


	31. Ashes in the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In your arms my anxiety sleeps, where dreams of calm seas begin, the tranquility of knowing I am loved- my salvation. 
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet (In Your Arms)

Pretending to sleep, Jörmungandr watched them. Their voices were hushed as they spoke, with Y/N occasionally pausing to tend to a plant. The moon was full that night and the sky was free of any clouds. Fireflies flitted around the garden, Y/N's magic causing a small number of the night time flowers to glow. 

For a time, it appeared as though as only Prince Loki was speaking, Y/N's expression gave nothing away. But it was the moon that ultimately betrayed her. Its silver light illuminated the tears in her eyes, tears yet to be spilled. Even from his position, Jörmungandr could see the tremor in Y/N's outstretched hands. She nodded on occasion, her bottom lip quivering as she visibly clenched her jaw. 

"I had hoped that the mortals had gotten it wrong," she murmured, swallowing hard, not daring to meet his gaze. "But I suppose that is why my name does not appear beside yours." Sighing, she smiled sadly and gently stroked the leaves before her. "It explains it all rather well, don't you think Sire?" 

Loki said nothing. He watched her with growing sadness. While the knowledge that his affections were returned gladdened him beyond measure, her pain was his. He felt it keenly, for he had felt it since the day the betrothal was announced. 

"I do not exist in the stories of the mortals," she was saying and dropped her hands. "For who would desire read of a traitor to the Crown?" 

Taking her hands in one of his and cupping her scarred cheek with the other, Loki silently urged her to look up. "You are no traitor my love." 

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. "In the eyes and mind of the Allfather and Crown Prince, I will always be." 

Freeing her hands, he drew her close, his arms wrapping securely around her. His heart skipping a beat as she rested her head against his chest. Resting his chin atop her head, he let out a heavy breath. "There were those that were considered sympathetic to you." 

"Sympathetic?" Y/N repeated softly, her arms circling waist as she nuzzled against him. 

"Indeed," the Prince repeated. "They were the ones that spread the kinder rumours about you." 

"You said there _were."_

Loki nodded and looked down to see her looking intently up at him. Innumerable questions filled her eyes. When he spoke however, his voice was the softest she had ever heard, even though it bore an undeniable edge. "Yes."  


"I take it that means that they are no longer among the living?" Y/N asked quietly, her eyes searching his. 

He nodded once more, undeniable grief bleeding into the vivid green of his eyes. "Yes." 

Fear rose up within her and formed a lump in her throat. Swallowing past it, she spoke again. "How many?" 

"I do not know the number. The Allfather never told me." 

"What of my family?" Y/N asked, a tremor in her voice. "My mother. My grandmother. Vídarr," her heart grew heavier with every word. "What of them?" 

There was a brief, heavy moment of silence before Loki spoke. "The King wished for it to seem as though you had never existed."

Shaking her head, she retreated, a single tear breaking free. "No," she whispered and clutched her hands to her heart. "Please. No." 

"He was there," Loki replied, eyes going distant. A haunted look glazed over them. "He spared the village so they were able to see. The King had them watch as your home was razed to the ground. The flames reached higher than the forest that surrounded the village, the smoke burned black and turned the air rancid with the smell of it."

A sob broke free from her as she saw what his words described. "You were there?" She whispered. 

He nodded. "Indeed I was. When the rain started, I was convinced that the flames would die. But they only burned all the brighter, as though they were meant to be seen by you in your exile." 

"And my family?"

"They were branded then and there," he explained in a whisper. "Their lips were silenced, as yours had been."

The look in her eyes was wretched as she gazed back at him, her head shaking in denial. Her clasped hands trembling against her chest. "Do they live?" She asked in a trembling, desperate whisper. "Were they spared?" 

Loki did not answer right away. Bowing his head, he squeezed his eyes shut as the tears began to fall. Lifting his head, he opened his eyes and met her own. "One by one it happened," he said softly. "Each in a different manner. You mother first and your brother last."

One hand flew to her mouth at his words and her legs gave way beneath her. Instantly Loki went to her and pulled her close. Y/N held on tightly, clutching at his arms and shoulders. Her tears quickly soaked through his clothing and fell on his heart. Her own shoulders heaved as she fought to breathe, her curses and cries of denial muffled against his chest.

All around them, her magic crackled, filling the air with the scent of peonies.

"I am sorry that I could not save them," he murmured, his breath gently ruffling her hair. "I am so sorry."

Pulling slightly away, Y/N looked up. Her e/c eyes shone bright with grief and crippling pain. "I do not hold you responsible for what happened," she managed to say, the tears not yet abating. "You do not need to apologise."

Tucking her close, he began to rock them both.

"What of Tallagor?" Y/N asked in a fragile whisper.

"He lives," Loki replied and smiled, albeit sadly. "He is kept in the Royal stables, separate from the other horses."

"I am glad," she murmured against him, the tears shining on her cheeks.

"I try to spend time with him every day."

Nodding, Y/N took a shuddering breath and let it stutter out of her. "He is a loyal creature. Quick and nimble despite his size."

"That he is," Loki agreed and pressed a gentle kiss to her crown. "And at times, I believed he understood every word I said."

"You spoke with him?"

"Indeed I did," the Prince replied. "And sometimes we would simply sit in silence and I would read."

"Why?" She asked softly, turning her head to look up at him.

The Prince smiled down at her, the expression so tender it made her heart ache. "He was my last link to you. Especially after _that_ day."

"Last link to me," she repeated faintly. "You did not try to forget? As your father wished?"

"He is no father of mine," Loki hissed and immediately softened his tone. "No father would have done what he has carried out. And as for forgetting, no amount of time or pressure exists for me to possibly forget even the smallest thing about you. The colour of your hair, the concentration in your eyes when you trained. Your smile, curved and so blindingly beautiful."

Despite her pain and the crippling grief, she felt a blush warm her cheeks. "Sire."

"Not once have you called me by my name," he observed and traced her cheek with the back of his hand.

"It is not right to," Y/N replied, surprised. "It is not proper."

"Have you ever desired it?" Loki asked, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

Mustering a shy smile, she nodded.

"I would have you say it. If only once," he said. "If only to satisfy my-"

"Loki," she whispered, interrupting him. "Loki."

"Norns," he replied breathlessly, wonder in his eyes. "It is as though I am hearing it for the first time. My mind pales in comparison to your voice." Cupping her face with both hands, he pleaded with her. "Would you say it again? _Please."_

"Loki."

With a small gasp, he circled his arms 'round her and let fresh tears fall. "You complete me," he said, voice steady and sure. "My heart and soul's other half is with you."

"They have taken so much from me," Y/N murmured after a short period of silence. "My home. My family. My freedom. You."

"They have not taken me," Loki assured her and nuzzled her hair. "I am here, am I not?"

"Oh but they have," Y/N said and smiled sadly. "In marrying you to the Vanir Princess, they have taken you from me forever."

"I do not love her."

"What does it matter? The King married you both for your realms and for you to forget me. I do not believe that love was ever destined to play a part."

Loki sighed and nodded.

"Perhaps it is best that I am to live out my natural life here," she whispered. "Asgard may be where I was born, but everything that has made it my home is gone. Blown away, like ashes in the wind." Pushing herself to stand and leaving his embrace, she hugged herself, wrapping her arms tightly. Swallowing hard, she turned her gaze to the moon. "I once believed exile to be worse than death. But now, for me, it is a blessing."

"If given the chance, would you return?"

Smiling sadly, she turned to look at him. "What have I to return to? My family is dead, my home a mere pile of ashes. Tallagor has been taken from me. It will only be a matter of time before they kill him too." Shaking her head, she continued, the pain in her heart bleeding into her voice. "Asgard is a place of torment for me now. A place of memories that bring only pain and serve only to remind me of my selfishness and unattainable dreams."

Coming to stand before her, Loki took both of her hands in his. "If I were to secure your return, would you come?"

"I already said-"

"For me?" He asked, bringing her hands up to rest over his heart. "Would you return for me?"

"And suffer seeing Her Highness, your wife fawn and cling to you?" Y/N asked and desperately began to try and free her hands. "Do not ask me to endure such pain."

Loki only held tighter. He would not let her go, never again. "It is indeed selfish of me to ask this of you. I know that."

"Then why?"

"I left you behind twice before," he replied. "Each of those times are branded in my memory. I simply wish for you to be at my side."

"As your mistress?" Y/N gasped and shook her head.

"No," he said and smiled softly. "I would never ask such a thing of you. I would not, in a hundred different lifetimes, ask you to betray who you are. I would not have you break with yourself."

"I thank you," she whispered. "The respect I have for you has grown with those words I have just heard."

"I may be a proficient liar. I may be talented at bending words to my will, true or otherwise. But, in spite of all this, I value honesty above all else."

"The Prince of Lies values honesty?" Y/N teased.

"Indeed," Loki replied and touched their foreheads together. "That is why I have told you all. As painful as it might be, you are the one most deserving of the truth."

"I would rather be hurt by the truth," she replied and briefly looked down as she tangled their fingers together. "Than be brought comfort by a lie."

Following her gaze, Loki smiled softly and hummed at the back of his throat. "I need you close," he whispered and kissed her forehead, his words fanning over her.

Tucking herself against him with their joined hands pressed to her heart, Y/N sighed. "And I, you," she replied. "But you have a wife now. I can imagine she is quite beautiful."

Loki nodded and curled his free arm around her, holding her close. "Aye," he murmured, "indeed she is. With the grace of your race and the elegance of a Queen. Her eyes, at times, change colour, from a stunning green to a warm brown. The summer sun delights in her hair, strands that are as spun gold when the light catches them."

Y/N was silent. An image of the woman appeared in her mind and envy soon rose within her. Not a single scar or blemish in sight. Skin as white as the first snow. "A Princess indeed," she said softly, acutely feeling the evening breeze brush over her brand.

"To those she wishes," Loki continued, "she appears as the most beautiful rose, twinkling with dew crystals in the morning."

"Does she appear so to you?"

The Prince looked down for a moment before looking back to the stars and shaking his head. "Perhaps when I first saw her. But now? I see no rose, but a thorn with jagged edges. Ready to lodge itself in whomsoever it chooses. Woe be to that being."

Turning her head, Y/N looked up. "You would speak so of your own wife?" She asked, surprised.

He let out a heavy sigh and met her gaze. "How else is one to speak of an unfaithful wife?"

Y/N felt her jaw drop. "She-?" Cutting herself off, she shook her head. "How can she not see just how fortunate she is?" She whispered emotionally. "To betray your trust and the binding oaths. To be wed to you," she paused and smiled up at him with tears in her eyes. "Would be the greatest blessing in all the Nine."

Loki said nothing. For the first time in a long while, words abandoned him. She sounded so sincere, her voice trembling as she spoke those words. The tenderness in those e/c eyes, mixed with a fierce love disarmed him.

"If I were as fortunate as she," Y/N continued in a wistful tone. "I would hold tight and never let you go. The thought of another would have no place in my mind, for my thoughts would only be filled with you. Your eyes that sparkle with mischief. Your smile, warm and heartwrenching in its beauty. Your hands, strong, capable and elegant. Your hair, as black as a raven's wing, curled lightly around your temples and brushing lightly on your strong shoulders. Your skin, as cold as marble in the winter time, as fair as the moon herself. Your voice, deep and smooth, capable of striking fear into the hearts of many while also being able to soothe and comfort. Your heart, so carefully guarded and worth more than all the wealth in the Nine."

"Truly?" He asked softly, words finally coming back to him.

She simply nodded.

With a small gasp, he pulled her impossibly closer, the tears he had been restraining broke free and fell to her hair.


	32. Lilac thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hate is a self-destructive emotion. It is how a soul commits suicide. 
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

The Queen's chambers were empty. Empty save for two people. Seated by the window they were and deep in conversation.

"Mother," Loki was saying, "do you believe there is a way?"

Frigga sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "I cannot make you any promises," she replied, "nor will I falsely raise your hopes."

"I understand," he murmured, his gaze turning to gaze out the window. Autumn had truly begun, decorating the trees in the hues of a sunset.

"Convincing your father of anything has always been a particularly difficult task," Frigga continued. "But, as it is, I can hardly bare occupying the same room as he." Pausing she shook her head, her soft voice hardening. "After all he has done to you and that poor girl. Now, she has nothing."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Loki replied and smiled in fond remembrance.

"Oh?"

"The village in which she lives," he explained, "she is accepted there," his eyes grew distant as he continued to speak. "The villagers accept her. They do not seem to care for the scarring done to her face. Each smile and word exchanged was sincere and genuine, with no hint of malice. From what I observed, she is treated with respect and as an equal."

"I never thought to hear you speak so of the mortals," Frigga mused and smiled softly.

"They care for her," Loki replied and looked back to his mother. "The children adore her, crowding around her and chattering without even pausing to breathe. And her garden, oh mother, it was truly a sight to behold. She had cultivated it with the utmost care and some, she allowed to glow with the assistance of her seidr."

"It would seem as though she has made a home for herself," Frigga murmured.

"No," Loki said, shaking his head and drawing a surprised look from the Queen. "Midgard is her exile. Her home died with her family. All that made Asgard her home, has been taken from her in the cruelest way possible."

"And yet you plead for her return?"

"I will not force her to come back," he replied. "As strongly as I desire it, the decision will be hers. If she wishes to stay where she is, I will not press the matter. I will let the matter rest so that she may live out her days in peace, surrounded by the plants her mother always grew and people that support and accept her."

Smiling, the Queen reached forward and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You truly love her," she said softly. "For if you did not, you would not speak so. You would not put her best interests before your own."

"I simply wish for her to be happy."

"At the cost of your own heart?"

Loki nodded. The smile he returned trembled at the edges. "I have no happiness without her."

"Oh my darling boy," Frigga sighed and brushed an ebony strand away from where it had fallen over his eye.

"The way she looked at me," he whispered, as though in awe. "It was as though everything she could ever have wished for had been given her."

"She has lost much," Frigga said, her tone matching his. "All that made her who she is. All that once tied her to this realm. Save for you."

"How so?"

"Oh my boy. You may be married and bound by sacred ritual to another, but those oaths do not bind your heart or soul."

"I will not have her as my mistress."

Frigga laughed softly and shook her head. "You misunderstand me darling."

"Then what is it you are meaning to say mother?" Loki asked, more than a little confused.

"What I mean is," Frigga continued. "Is that a love like the one the two of you share is not likely to die. It is a love forged in the heart of a war. You protected each other and will continue to do so, with words and actions. Your love for her will keep you close to her, as hers will keep her close to you. You carry her heart and she carries yours. It matters not if you see her or she, you. You are with each other, the words you speak, the other will hear."

"Truly?"

Frigga nodded and let go of his hand to cup his cheek. "I speak the truth. On a matter such as this, I would not dare to lie. The heart cannot lie, and I have spoken from mine."

Leaning into her touch, Loki sighed. "I thought I would never see her again."

"But you have. And you will again."

"Have I been unfaithful?" He asked quietly, his gaze directed down.

"No," Frigga replied softly and gently lifted his chin so their eyes would meet. "No you have not. There is no one more faithful than they who follow their heart." With those words, she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead and held him close. 

Drawing away from the closed door, Sigyn clenched her jaw. Every word they had spoken, she had heard. She had not come to eavesdrop, she had come to spend the morning with the Queen, as was her duty as a daughter-by-law. She had not expected her husband to have beaten her to it.

Upon his return from Midgard, Sigyn ought to have known that something had happened. Something that involved that elven wench.

Spinning on her heels, the Princess swept away from the Queen's chambers in a swirl of lilac silk. The fabric trailed behind her as she hurried her way to the throne room. Did she dare to imagine that the Allfather knew of this? That his son loved one who was not his wife?

Upon her approach, the guards opened the throne room doors. The hall was empty. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she left the throne room behind. Thus began her search. One that eventually lead her to her favourite garden. Made up of rose hedges and oak trees, it was her own little sanctuary. Though not created with her in mind, she had claimed it as her own.

"I do believe you have searched the entire palace," came a voice from behind her.

With her hand lingering on the trunk of a tree, she chanced a glance over her shoulder and met the emerald gaze of her husband. "Now you seek my company?" She asked waspishly.

Loki smirked and let a trail of his seidr create a series of butterflies that flittered amongst the roses. "I know that you heard us."

"I firmly believe that I know not what you mean," she replied and turned back to the tree.

She did not hear him approach. Standing behind her, he caged her against the tree. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "You forget why they call me the god of lies. You are well versed in hiding the truth. But not nearly well enough to hide it from me."

Drawing away, he watched as she stood still for a spell before she turned to fully face him. "And was it that you wish for me to say?" She demanded.

"The truth," he replied. "For once."

"The truth?" Sigyn repeated and sneered. "And what would you know about the truth? Every word you have ever said to me has been a lie."

"Has it?" He asked and folded his arms. 

Sigyn said nothing in reply, unable to answer under the heavy wait of his narrowed gaze. Dread and horror froze the blood in her veins. He knew. Of course he did. The ice hardened in her eyes as she met his gaze. "I have only one question."

"And what might that be?"

Licking her lips, Sigyn took a deep breath. "During your visit to Midgard, was she there?"

"My dear, I believe you already know the answer to that one."

"I was hoping I had misheard."

Loki raised an eyebrow as he regarded her.

"Am I really to blame for my reaction?" She said softly.

"A faithful wife is not," he replied. "But you are not she. Are you?"

"You dare to lecture me on infidelity?" Sigyn hissed. "You dare to talk down to me when you have been cavorting with that elven whore?! What was her name? Y/N?"

Silence filled the garden. A silence that was broken as Sigyn fell to her knees, clutching her head in pain.

"How _dare_ you speak her name?" Loki snarled, curling his fingers and her whimpers grew in volume. "How _dare_ you speak of her at all? You do not deserve to know her. You do not deserve to know _of_ her. _How dare you?"_

In her pain, Sigyn looked up. The look in his eyes was a wild one, feral and terrifying.

"How dare you insult and mock what you do not know?" Loki continued and knelt before her. Reaching out, he wrapped a hand 'round her throat but did not squeeze. "You know nothing," he hissed before letting go and standing, watching in distaste as she collapsed, coughing.

"If my brother were to hear of this-"

"Even if he does," he cut her off. "He is worlds away, governing his people. He will not help you now."

"What of your father?" She asked hoarsely. Her eyes glaring in open challenge.

The Prince chuckled. "There is little he can take from me that has not already been taken. There is little torment he can bestow upon me."

The Princess stared at her husband.

"It is _you,"_ Loki said and looked down at her. "That should be frightened. If the news concerning you and my brother reaches the Allfather's ears, well," he paused smiled. "You will lose more than your reputation and I highly doubt that your brother will give you sanctuary should you try to flee."

"Are you threatening me?"

Loki shrugged. "How you choose to see it is up to you. A warning. A threat. All the same, if you bare guilt." With those words, he turned and stalked from the garden. 

Pulling together what dignity and composure still remained, Sigyn stood and brushed herself off. There was only one thing to be done. Smoothing her appearance, she too left the garden and after what felt like hours of searching, found the King where she had first sought for him.

"Sigyn my dear," he greeted her and gestured for her to rise. "Word has it that you wished to speak with me?"

The Princess nodded and smiled. "Indeed I do Allfather. I have but a simple request."

"And what might that be my dear?"

"As you are no doubt aware," she replied. "It has been quite some time since a worthy replacement has been found for my late chambermaid. I have one now, but I fear I find her somewhat lacking."

"While I am sorry to hear that," Odin said, "why tell me? Have you spoken with Her Majesty? She oversees matters such as these."

"I understand," Sigyn replied. "But I fear there is one step I must take before going to the Queen."

"Oh?"

"You see Allfather, I have made a decision regarding the candidate, but I will be needing your permission to bring her forward."

"Why so? Who is she?"

Sigyn smiled. "I believe she goes by the name of Y/N? Y/N Hrókrdóttir?"

Odin stared at her as though she had lost her mind. "She is in exile, Princess. I am sorry, but it would seem as though you may need to decide upon someone else. Someone less _tainted."_

"Allfather," she said and dared to take a step closer. "You know as well as I that my husband cares for her. More than he should." 

"Then why wish for her return?"

"If you grant your permission," Sigyn explained, "she will be under my service and mine alone. It will do her some good to see how benevolent and magnanimous you are."

Odin paused a moment before speaking. "You must be discreet in your recovery of her. And be wary, she is not as gentle as she appears. She fought in a war, she _will_ fight you."

"Loki must not know," she replied, curtsying. "At least, not until after her return."

The King nodded in agreement. "Very well. Do what you must to secure her, Heimdall will tell you of her location."


	33. Know your place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was like one of those flowers that only bloom in winter; courageous and selfless, she made the bad days better. 
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin (An English Daisy)

The jewels she had selected glimmered softly in the candlelight. They sat becomingly among Sigyn's golden curls and brought out the subtle green in her eyes. The long earrings the Princess wore swung gently as she turned her head this way and that.

"Who knew a traitor's hands could create something so beautiful?" She murmured and caught sight of the younger woman in the mirror. Their eyes did not meet as Y/N secured the last of the jewels and stepped back, her head bowed.

Standing from her vanity, Sigyn gave herself a last once-over and nodded in approval. "You will remain here until we return. Is that understood?"

Y/N nodded. "As Her Highness wishes."

Satisfied, the Princess stepped past her to retrieve the last item of her evening ensemble. A pair of black silk gloves that reached well above the elbow. A knock on the door startled them both.

"Who is it?" Sigyn called, glancing to the side where her maid stood silently.

"It is I," came the reply.

The changes in the maid's features were minute, but still there. Her eyes gave nothing away, yet it was her clenched jaw that betrayed her. The Princess smiled. "You may enter, I am very nearly ready."

Y/N made to turn away when the door opened, but a firm grip on her arm prevented her from moving. Instantly, she bowed. Anything to avoid meeting his eyes. For the moment she did, she knew all would be lost and her hard-won composure would be gone.

"It is not like you to tarry my dear," Loki said upon entering.

"Yes, well," Sigyn huffed. "If you wish to lay blame on someone, let it be the maid."

In that moment, Y/N desperately wished for the ground to swallow her whole. She did not have to look up to notice him looking her way. She remained silent, even as she saw the shined tips of his boots come into her field of vision.

"Do not waste your breath on her, husband," Sigyn said, walking to stand beside him and looping her arm through his. "She knows better than to make the same mistake twice."

"She is your new chambermaid?" Loki asked as they made their way to the door.

"Indeed."

Y/N waited with bated breath for them to cross the threshold. For only then did she look up and muttered a small incantation, a smirk playing at the edges of her mouth.

His moss-green eyes looked back at her before he closed the door. Their eyes met for a single second and all breath left her. The smirk disappeared and she simply nodded, the movement stiff and restrained.

The moment the door closed behind them, she felt her knees give way. The shock in his eyes had been too much. Pushing herself to her feet, Y/N went to one of the many windows and looked out to the full moon. A single silver tear escaped her eyes and fell onto the stone window frame.

"Is the witch gone for the night?" Jörmungandr asked, slithering out of her sleeve and settling on the window ledge. 

Y/N nodded and took a trembling breath. 

"Oh dear," the snake whispered upon seeing the tear. "What has she done now? Would you like me to poison her favourite flowers again?" 

This brought a smile to her face and she laughed, shaking her head. "No no. It isn't her."

"Then who?" He asked, confused. 

"He was here," she replied softly, her smile becoming sad. "Loki was here." 

"Ahh," Jörmungandr muttered and rested his head against one of her hands. "Did he know it was you?" 

Y/N shook her head. "I do not believe so. But then, at the end, I believe he saw me." 

"You'll be in for it if he did." 

"How so?" 

"Think about it," Jörmungandr explained. "Sigyn most likely saw him notice you. She's gonna give you hell for that." 

"Anymore than she hasn't already?" 

"Aye," he muttered in agreement. "You are right there." 

Almost absently was how she reached up to lightly touch her throat. For she did not touch her own skin, but the ornate collar of a thrall. Loose enough not to strangle, but tight enough not to 'accidentally' slip off. It sat flush with the skin of her throat and was a singular piece of metal. 

There were only a small number of servants that wore such collars. Though unlike her, they did not serve as chambermaids and handservants. The kitchens and fields were where they could mostly be found. 

She could not breathe without feeling it. She could not be a moment without a constant reminder of its presence. It was almost an entire month now since her arrival back. 

Her fingers curled and her nails dug lightly into the tender flesh, leaving small red crescents behind. How much longer was she to endure this so-called pardon? This false mercy of the Allfather and the blatant cruelty of the Vanir Princess. 

It was an elegant affair. The nobles of the court and high ranking officials sat at exquisitely decorated tables and the chatter amongst them created a soft lull. Currently not engaged in conversation, Loki took a sip of his wine and let his mind wander. 

Y/N. Her name now sang in his mind as the most beguiling of songs. Those sung by sirens could in no way compare. That brief moment where their eyes had met would not leave him. His mind gave him no peace. The maid Sigyn had spoken so harshly about...had been Y/N? How had he not seen her? Standing there so meekly with her head bowed. That image clashed with how stubborn and lively he knew her to be. 

How long had she been in Sigyn's service? How long had he failed to notice what stood right before him? Did his mother know of this? His heart ached at the thought of what had occurred for her to be as she was now. What further torments she had been made to endure. 

_'Oh Y/N,'_ he thought, _'oh my darling. Forgive me for not seeing this sooner.'_

"Say Your Highness, what might that be in your hair?"  


The question, asked by a young noble woman drew Loki from his thoughts. Looking beside him to where his wife sat, he fought to stifle a smirk of his own. 

"What is what?" Sigyn asked, confused and reached up with both hands to lightly touch her hair. 

"There," another Lady indicated, pointing delicately with a ringed finger to Sigyn's hair. 

"Where?" Sigyn huffed, her hands becoming a little firmer in their touch. "I cannot feel anything." 

"It is rather big," said the first Lady, her voice becoming slightly panicked. "Prince Loki, surely you can see it too?" 

Feigning ignorance, Loki shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot, dear Lady." His eyes, however, were fixed on what had caused all the commotion. There, amongst his wife's painstakingly coiled and braided hair, was a small, dark green snake. It's scales glimmered bewitchingly as it moved. _'You clever girl,'_ he thought fondly. He cast his mind back but a few hours and recalled seeing Y/N mutter something under her breath and smile. _'You clever, clever girl.'_

Sigyn was fast becoming irritated and finally turned to the Queen. "Your Majesty," she said. "It appears that there is something in my hair that I can neither see or touch, yet all others can. Are you able to? Is there really something there?"  


Loki locked eyes with his mother for half a second before the Queen turned her attention to the frazzled Princess. "I regret to inform you, my dear Sigyn, that there is indeed a little creature in your hair. Which, if I may say, looks particularly stunning tonight." 

Sigyn, it appeared, did not hear the Queen's last words. Frantically she began to pat her hair, hissing in frustration. "Then why can I not feel it-" she ground out before cutting herself off, a thought occurring to her. Her painted lips contorted into a sneer. "Y/N," she hissed under her breath. 

The utterance of her name and venom with which it was spoken alarmed Loki. Rising, he bowed to the King and Queen. "I fear it is time for us to depart. I bid you good night." Murmured returns of the sentiment followed them from the hall. 

Sigyn, it seemed, was already ten steps ahead. She had left the hall before he had and thus reached their chambers first. 

"You," she spat upon seeing the maid. "How dare you humiliate me before the court?" 

Y/N regarded the infuriated Princess calmly, even as her heart thundered in her chest. 

Approaching the maid, Sigyn lashed out, her nails and rings drawing blood on Y/N's unmarked cheek. "It would do you good to remember your place," she said, standing over a fallen Y/N, a hand held to the reddening cheek. "Or need I remind you what that collar means?" 

Y/N stared up at the Princess, her words and the words of the Allfather from that day echoed in her mind....

_ Forced to her knees, Y/N clenched her jaw tight in anger. Was she not in exile? Why then was she brought back so suddenly?  _

_ "Exile from your home," came the Allfather's voice, "was to remain in effect for the remainder of your natural life. However, I have decided to show mercy and lenience toward you for the fulfillment of one single condition." _

_She dared not ask, no matter how longingly she wished to do so._

_The woman that stepped up beside the King smiled down at her. But there was no warmth in that expression. Y/N felt as though she already knew her, with her hazel eyes and flowing golden hair. There was only one person she could be. Princess Sigyn, wife of Loki._

_"You will remain in service to Her Highness," Odin continued, gesturing for a guard to step forth, a band of metal in his hands. "You will wear this collar to serve as a reminder. A reminder of your true place and let it be a symbol of pardon. For though your crimes are not forgiven, they are pardoned."_

_The metal felt cold and unyielding against her throat as they fastened it, giving over a small key to the waiting Princess. The Princess who now glided to stand before her, lifting her chin with an elegant finger. "You live to serve me," she said quietly. "Remember that, and all will be well."_

Now, in the present, Sigyn dangled the key before her eyes. "Without this, you will never truly be free. Remember that, _svikari."_

Loki chose that moment to enter. Both women looked to him at his entrance. "What is this?" He asked, looking between them both, his gaze lingering a moment longer on Y/N before snapping back to his wife.

"A little disciplining," Sigyn explained, standing and smiling at him. "Nothing you need concern yourself with my love."

"Is that so? And what might her crime be?"

"I have reason to believe that she is the one responsible for the commotion caused at dinner," Sigyn explained, sparing a look of loathing down where Y/N still knelt.

"Physical chastisement is frowned upon for the chamber staff," Loki replied and stepped closer. "Lest their bodies be marred and be looked upon by those higher."

"Are you defending her?"

The Prince sighed and shook his head. "I am defending no one. I am simply stating the rules of the palace set down by the Queen herself."

Grinding her teeth, Sigyn lifted her chin and strode past him, slamming the door as she went.

In an instant he was beside her, kneeling on the soft carpet. He frowned as she turned away from him. _"Ástin mín?"_ Reaching out, he gently cupped her inflamed cheek and heard her soft gasp as his touch. "Will you not look at me?" He asked softly.

Closing her eyes for one brief moment, she did as asked. "Sire," she murmured.

A pained look entered his eyes at her utterance of his title. "Loki, please," he said, desperate for her to say it and close this distance between them.

Y/N smiled faintly before nodding lightly. "Loki," she whispered, her heart leaping as he smiled.

"There," he replied softly, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Raising a trembling hand, she hesitantly lay her hand over the one that cupped her cheek.

"It pains me to see you so changed," the Prince murmured, his gaze drifting to the collar she wore, his free hand coming up to lightly touch it. "Oh my heart," he gasped and pulled her to him, his arms wrapping securely around her.

All hesitation appeared to leave her as she returned the embrace and buried her face in his shoulder. Drawing back, she gazed up at him and smiled sadly. "I am not changed my love."

"Forgive me for not believing you," he replied and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"There is nothing to forgive," Y/N said and reached up to gently smooth his hair, though not one strand was out of place. "But I do what I must to survive."

"It was not your wish to return then?"

Y/N shook her head. "At least, not yet."

A brief silence settled over them before Loki spoke again, a smile in his voice. "It was you though, was it not?"

Frowning in confusion, Y/N asked, "what was me?"

Drawing back a little to look down at her, he replied, grinning. "That charming green serpent that was seen in my wife's hair?"

A small smile of her own broke out and she nodded once before hiding her face in his neck and settling there.

"A beautiful little illusion," he murmured and began tracing soothing patterns on her back. "Convincing too."

"As I said," Y/N replied and he felt her grin. "I do what I must to survive."

"Indeed."

How much longer was she to watch this? Veiled from their sight, Sigyn watched them. Her blood boiled within her that her husband should defend one such as her. Never had he held her as he now held that maid. Never had his voice been so gentle, nor his actions so tender. They looked so right together and Sigyn hated it. She despised it even.

She had watched him touch the collar, fingers lightly shaking as he did so. Had she been standing elsewhere, she might have seen the tears in his eyes.

 _'She is mine,'_ she thought and smiled to herself. _'Not yours. Mine.'_

"I will free you of this," Loki was saying. "By the Norns, I swear it."

Y/N smiled sadly against him and nuzzled further in. "You need not swear," she replied, kissing what skin his collar exposed. "For any word of yours, I will surely believe."

"Then you are the first."

Humming, she turned her head to look up at him and gently smoothed her knuckles along his cheek and jaw line. "But hopefully not the last," with those words, she drew his lips down to meet with hers in a tender kiss.

Turning away, Sigyn melted into the shadows and stepped out into the hall beyond.

"Is everything alright?" Thor asked, having just turned into the corridor.

Sigyn made to nod, but soon shook her head. "No."

"What is it?" The elder Prince asked, alarmed at the slight tremor in Sigyn's voice. "Is it my brother?"

"In a manner of speaking," she replied. "He is with _her."_

Thor felt his eyes widen at her words. When had Y/N come back? Why had she come back? "She has returned then?"

Sigyn nodded. "The Allfather allowed her return."

Though curious, he could not bare the sight of the unshed tears in her eyes. "Come here," he said softly and opened his arms to her.

"What if someone sees?"

"Then to Hel with them."

And seen they were, not by passing guards or nobles. But by Y/N as she closed the doors behind her, a small smile playing at her mouth. A smile that soon disappeared at the sight she was greeted with.

Hearing the doors close, Thor looked up and met the shocked gaze of the light elf. A shock that soon turned to a seething fury before calming a little too quickly as she swept past them, head held high. A small flick of her hand saw them both covered in thousands of tiny, black ants.

Smirking to herself, Y/N made her way to the servant's quarters. "Serves you right," she said to the empty hallway and looked down to see Jörmungandr grinning up at her. 

"Nicely done," the snake complimented. 

"It is the least they deserve for betraying him," she replied and winked. "And who's to say it'll be the last?" 

Chuckling, Jörmungandr wrapped himself loosely around her shoulders. "You really have not changed," he remarked, "despite the witch's efforts." 

"She may be of the Vanir," Y/N said, reaching up to lightly stroke his head. "But it is not her magic that continues to protect this realm."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Svikari = Traitor  
> Ástin mín = My love
> 
> Translated from Icelandic.


	34. Lift my wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a heart is the size of a fist because we were built to fight for what we love.
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin (The Fist Fight)

"It needs to be perfect."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"It needs to outshine all others."

"Of course, Your Highness."

In the two months that had passed since that conversation, Y/N had worked through both day and night to fulfill Sigyn's request. Over the weeks, the excitement in the palace had only grown. A big celebration was to be had and it was rumoured that the King of Vanaheim would be in attendance. The nature of the celebration was known all over the realm, for the second wedding anniversary of Prince Loki and Princess Sigyn was almost upon them.

Jörmungandr watched from Sigyn's vanity as Y/N worked. Using both her magic and physical strength, she was in the process of creating perhaps the most beautiful gown the Nine had ever seen. The faint scent of peonies drifted through the suite of rooms. "I still don't understand why you're making it so pretty," the snake remarked. "She certainly doesn't deserve it."

Y/N sighed and smiled softly but continued to work. "I told you when I started this, it isn't for her. She may be the one wearing it, but it isn't for her."

The silvery serpent elected to remain silent. It was true, she _had_ said that. His heart bled for her, for them both. The gown was a work of art and had robbed Y/N of precious hours of rest.

"So you're not gonna make it do anything unusual?" Jörmungandr asked after a short while. 

Y/N shook her head. "Not this time. It needs to be perfect," pausing in her work, she let one hand trail over the emerald fabric. "He deserves it," she said softly. 

"You would be a vision if you wore it," Jörmungandr murmured. "Much more beautiful than the witch." 

"I will never wear such finery," she replied. "It is not in the stars for me."

"Surely it wouldn't hurt to try?" He wheedled and winked as she glanced over her shoulder at him. 

"You are incorrigible," Y/N chuckled and turned back to the dress. The longing in her eyes was unmistakable. She was not of the nobility or of royal blood, she didn't deserve to even touch such beauty. 

"She isn't here," Jörmungandr pointed out, "and what she doesn't know, can't hurt her. Although I wish it would," he muttered.  


Inhaling shakily, Y/N nodded. "But only for a short while, the celebrations begin at sundown." 

Jörmungandr blepped happily. "That's my girl."  


With the help of her magic, Y/N transferred the nearly completed gown from the mannequin to herself. The fabric settled over her as though it were tailored for her and not for the Vanir Princess. It trailed on the ground behind her, just as she had planned. 

"Would you look at that," Jörmungandr whispered, awestruck at the sight of her. 

Y/N smiled shyly and wondered over to the tall mirror and gasped softly at the sight that greeted her. The afternoon sun shimmered on the gold threads at her slightest movement. "I did this for you," she whispered, bringing his image into the mirror. "You deserve something of beauty, something no one else will ever have. This gown is for you." 

"Would you spin for me?" 

Y/N startled at the voice and turned. "Loki," she whispered. 

The Prince nodded and smiled. "The one and only." 

"How long have you been there?" 

"Not long enough." 

Y/N felt her cheeks flush and so she ducked her head in an effort to hide. Not a moment later, she felt him gently lift her chin to meet his eyes. "You look beautiful," he murmured. "Now, would you spin for me?" 

Nodding shyly, she stepped away from him and spun in a slow circle, the sunlight catching on her movements. 

"Breathtaking," he said and held out a hand to her. When she looked to him confusion, he chuckled. "Dance with me," he explained. 

"But Sire," she stammered, "I do not know how." 

"Then I shall teach you," he replied.

Biting her lip she nodded and took his offered hand. Her nervousness was swept away as he guided her in the simple steps of a rather intimate dance. It was slow and soothed her racing heart. 

"I shall imagine it is you tonight," he murmured into her hair as he held her close. "Dancing with me for all the Nine to see. At my side." 

Y/N smiled, her head resting on his shoulder. Unbidden, a tear came and landed softly on his tunic. "In another life," she whispered, not trusting her voice to be any louder. "I would be yours for all eternity. Yours for all the realms to see." 

Loki said nothing. Closing his eyes, he pressed a firm kiss to her crown and felt a tear fall, the soft strands of her hair catching it. His arms tightened around her. "You are mine," he said softly, "as I am yours." 

Committing his words to her memory and stowing them away in the safety of her heart, she looked up and smiled sadly. Raising a hand, she laid it tenderly on his cheek, her heart stuttering as he held it there, softly kissing her wrist. "I must go," she said quietly, hating the words as she spoke them. "Her Highness will return for her bathing soon."

Loki nodded wordlessly and pressed his lips to hers. Y/N readily reciprocated, her arms coming to twine around his neck as his wrapped around her waist. Asgard faded around them, their worlds consisting solely of the other. It was a desperate kiss, one filled with the deepest longing and forbidden dreams. They did not wish to part, but the mutual need for air soon became apparent.

Panting lightly, they kissed their foreheads together. "I love you," she whispered. "I always will."

"I love you beyond my own understanding," Loki replied. "I never thought that this would be possible for me."

A moment of silence passed before they parted, the Prince sparing her one last longing glance before disappearing from the room.

"I think it is very safe to say that neither of us were expecting that," Jörmungandr piped up, startling her. "But not wholly unwelcome I gather?"

Y/N shook her head, her hand pressed to her heart. Shaking herself, she looked down at the gown and sighed before transferring it back to the mannequin. Crouching down, she continued with applying the finishing touches. 

At that moment, Sigyn entered the suite. Wrapped in a soft cream gown, she sauntered over to where Y/N was diligently working on the gown. The rosy glow of her seidr drifting through the fabric as she worked. 

Nodding in reluctant approval, the Princess moved past her and entered the bathing room. "Fill the bath," she called to the maid. 

Sighing, Y/N nodded, even though it went unseen. "Of course Your Highness," she replied and stepped into the opulent bathing room. Kneeling by the bath's white marble edge, she reached over to the faucet and twisted it, allowing the warm water to flow out. As the steam curled, Y/N selected one of the crystal vials that stood nearby and poured a generous amount of the lilac oil into the water. Soon the calming scent of Lavender joined the steam and filled the bathing chamber. 

"Go and finish the gown," Sigyn instructed, shedding her gown and stepping into the bath, settling on one of its marble benches.

Bowing, Y/N gathered the gown and departed. 

Laying the worn gown on the bed, she returned to her work, only this time, soft words accompanied her in a song her mother had taught her many years ago. 

_ "How can the small flowers grow,  
If the wild winds blow,  
And the cold snow is all around?  
_

_ Where will the frail birds fly,  
If their homes on high,  
Have been torn down to the ground?  
_

_ Lift the wings,  
That carry me away from here and,  
Fill the sail,  
That breaks the line to home.  
But when I'm miles and miles apart from you,  
I'm beside you, when I think of you,  
a Stóirín, a Grá..."  
_

Her voice, though soft, drifted into the bathing chamber and piqued Sigyn's curiosity. Sitting up in the warm water, she leaned towards the soft singing.  


_ "How can a tree stand tall,  
If the rain won't fall,  
To wash its branches down?  
  
_ _ How can a heart survive,  
Can it stay alive,  
If its love's denied for long?  
_

_ Lift the wings,  
That carry me away from here, and  
Fill the sail,  
That breaks the line to home.  
But when I'm miles and miles apart from you,  
I'm beside you, when I think of you,  
a Stóirín,... _

Rising from the bath and wrapping a towel 'round herself, Sigyn padded to the threshold back to the bedroom and watched as the elven maid worked. The song flowed hauntingly from her lips and made Sigyn's curl. Oh she knew full to whom it was directed and she delighted in the fact that he was not here to hear it.  


_ "And I'm with you as I dream of you,  
a Stóirín,  
And a song will bring me near to you,  
a Stóirín, a Grá."  _

Y/N sighed softly as the song faded into silence, her mother had last sung it when her father had gone to war, Vídarr at his side. Now she sung it too and her heart ached terribly within her.  


"That was both sad and very beautiful," Jörmungandr said. "Did you come up with that?"  


Y/N shook her head. "My mother did. She taught it to me the last time father went to war and we sang it together." 

"I am so sorry," the serpent whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. 

Y/N smiled up at the snake through tears of her own and blinked them away. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I like to think that mother was here with me when I sang it and that she would be happy for me."

"Happy for you?" Jörmungandr repeated, confused. "Surely she wouldn't be happy seeing you like this?"

Y/N laughed softly and shook her head. "No no. You misunderstand me. I like to think that she would be happy that my heart has found someone."

Jörmungandr hummed in response and rested his head on his coiled body. "Not the ideal situation though is it?"  


"Love never comes when we want it to," Y/N replied, refocusing on her work. Almost done. "We can plan and anticipate all we like, but it won't make an iota of a difference." 

"You speak very strangely sometimes," Jörmungandr muttered. "You spent way too long around those mortals." 

"I would have liked to have spent more time there," Y/N replied, "I was beginning to feel comfortable. Accepted." 

"And if it wasn't for the witch," Jörmungandr pointed out, "you would still be worlds away. I'd say the comfort and acceptance you found during your exile was a thorn in the Allfather's side." 

"I would hate to say it," she murmured, eyes narrowing as she focused on the last piece of embroidery. "But I do believe you are correct there. I am glad though, that Loki found me before she did." 

"Maybe its _because_ he found you?" Jörmungandr suggested. 

"I have no doubt," Y/N replied. "I would not put it past her to pull a move like that." 

"I shudder to think what else she has planned for you."

Y/N shrugged. "I care not what she does to me. It is her betrayal of Loki's trust that hurts more than any injury she could inflict." With those words, she rose to her feet and inspected the completed gown.

"I dare the royal tailors to try and outdo you," Jörmungandr said, eyes glowing with pride. "I daresay one will not be able to find a more stunningly elegant gown anywhere in the known universe." 

"You do like to exaggerate," Y/N muttered, though fighting a smile. 

"When will you learn to accept a compliment?" 

"Who knows?" She shot back and winked. 

"You simply did as asked. There is no need to be thanked for it," Sigyn spoke up from her place by the door. 

Y/N whipped in her direction, Jörmungandr seemed to have vanished into thin air. Swallowing nervously, she bobbed a quick curtsy. 

"It is acceptable," the Princess continued, dropping her towel and padding over to the finished gown. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N retrieved the discarded towel. "Would Her Highness care for some assistance with dressing?" 

"No need," she replied and waved her hand, the movement causing the dress to move onto her waiting body. 

Y/N watched silently for a moment before retreating into the bathing room to hang the towel. Her mind burned with the image of Sigyn in that gown. A gown she herself had worn not moments before. A gown she had danced in. Kissed Loki in. Fighting a smile, she returned to the bedchamber.

"You will do my hair," the Princess said, sitting at her vanity. "And if you try any of those tricks of yours tonight, it'll only be the worse for you." 

Y/N kept a carefully blank expression as she styled the blonde waves into something elegant and becoming. 

Standing and moving to the centre of the room, Sigyn spun, tittering like a young girl as she watched the skirts of her gown. Coming at last to a standstill, she came to stand before Y/N and in the shoes she had chosen to wear, towered over her. "There is a little matter that must be taken care of before I go," she whispered, her lips brushing against Y/N's ear. 

She looked to the Princess in confusion. 

A confusion that quickly turned to fear as Sigyn called, "guards!" 

Instantly she tensed and she felt Jörmungandr make his presence known by appearing around her shoulders and hissing. 

The Princess seemed awfully pleased with herself as two guards stepped into the room and bowed, eyeing Y/N and Jörmungandr with clear distaste. "Your Highness," they said in unison and bowed. 

"Take him," Sigyn said simply and pointed to Jörmungandr. 

"Your Highness?" They asked fearfully. 

Y/N smirked at their unease and she felt Jörmungandr ripple against her. 

"The snake," Sigyn explained. "He is a bad influence on my maid and is not to be trusted." 

"Oh no," Y/N muttered under her breath and felt her seidr pool in her palms, ready to be let loose. "Oh no you don't." 

Cautiously the guards approached them, their swords out before them. Their steps were slow and measured. Too slow for Sigyn. 

Growling in frustration, the Princess made a lunge for the pair. Jörmungandr saw his chance as her hand made a grab for him and sank his fangs into her hand. Her cry of pain sprung the guards into action. 

"Traitorous wench," they snarled and rounded on her. Their weapons at the ready. 

"If it is a fight you want gentlemen," Y/N replied and allowed her seidr's glow to become a little brighter. "Then I am more than happy to give it to you." 

And a fight it was. While Jörmungandr had taken it upon himself to face-off with Sigyn, Y/N dueled the two guards, using her seidr to summon blades of her own. It was vicious and quick, lasting no more than a full hour. 

While the two guards nursed their wounds, Y/N knelt beside a pale Sigyn. "How often did you bite her?" She whispered to Jörmungandr. 

"Only once," he replied and slithered back around her shoulders. 

"Well," she said, "in any case, I suppose we ought to get her to the healers. Though I am surprised that her own healing has not yet begun." 

"It has," Jörmungandr said, "just a little slower." 

"You two," Y/N said, turning to the guards, "do your duty and help your Princess to the healers."  


"You will die for this," the younger of the two snarled while struggling to stand. 

"A threat I have heard before," Y/N replied, waving it away. "Now hurry along." 

"She is not gonna be happy when she recovers," Jörmungandr whispered in her ear as the guards left with Sigyn between them.  


"When isn't she?" Y/N muttered and gave the chambers a quick sweep with her seidr, setting everything to rights before closing the doors behind her and making for the gardens. 

The arrival of the Vanir King was met with thunderous applause. Though, instead of being lead to the feasting hall, he was directed to the healing rooms. His sister had been injured, so he had been told and the healers were tending to her. 

Leaving his attendants by the doors, he hurried inside and soon found her, Prince Loki at her side. 

"How is she?" He asked in a hushed whisper. 

The Prince smiled grimly. "She is stable. The healers have managed to extract the poison before it became fatal." 

"Poison?" The King asked, horrified. 

Loki nodded. 

"What kind of poison?" 

"Snake poison," came the answer. "From a very rare breed, as it happens." 

"Typical," the King muttered. "Oh Sig," he sighed, looking down at his sister. "I thought we have moved past this?" 

Though curious, Loki let his questions lie unasked. He suspected from which serpent this poison came, but remained silent. "You have travelled far," he said instead. "I will have the servants show you to your chambers."

Nodding, the King spared a light kiss for Sigyn's forehead before turning and leaving the healing rooms behind. 

The news of Sigyn's accident had spread through the palace like wildfire. While the celebrations had been postponed, the palace was still quite lively. 

They were almost to the guest wing when they heard it. A distinctly female voice, whose tone was none too friendly. Gesturing for his guide and attendants to remain where they were, the Vanir King stepped forward to see who this woman was.

Then he saw them, a group of three. The woman was standing before two guards, her e/c eyes hard and unforgiving in the torchlight. "If you _ever_ think to take him from me again, you will end up worse than she did. Am I making myself clear?"

When she received no response, she sighed in frustration before lifting a curled hand, the effect clear as one of the guards began to find it difficult to breathe. Soon the other one nodded quickly and she dropped the other. "Good," she said, "now get out of my sight before I set him on you."

Never before had he seen anyone run so quickly while wearing heavy armour.

"Whatever did they do to deserve such treatment?"

Y/N rolled her eyes at the question. The last thing she needed now was a lecture from a fellow servant who believed himself better than she. "I was simply defending myself," she explained and turned to face the speaker. She frowned upon seeing her companion. The way he was dressed suggested he was someone of rank. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Forgive me Sir," she said, dropping into a curtsy.

He raised a finely shaped eyebrow at her address. Did she not know who he was? "Rise," he said and gestured for her to do so. "You do not know who I am," he stated softly.

Y/N did not dare to look up but shook her head. "You are not of Asgard, that I know. Your clothing and style of hair would suggest you hail from Vanaheim."

He smiled and nodded. "Quite observant aren't we?"

"I simply take note of what I see," she replied.

"You _can_ look at me," he said, smirking.

Taking a deep breath, she did just that. He was handsome, her brain acknowledged that much, to her annoyance. His hair was as dark as Loki's and more than twice as long. It was slung over his shoulder in a neat braid, white beads clicking softly as he moved. His eyes too, were dark, almost black. His smile was kind as he regarded her. His clothing was of a pale golden colour and embroidered with stunningly intricate patterns. Y/N was sure he would be of equal height to Loki, if not a little shorter.

"Might I know your name Young Lady?" He asked kindly.

"My name?" She repeated. "I am but a servant Sir. Of what importance is my name to you?"

"You are no mere servant though, are you?" He asked and looked pointedly to her collar. "You are a thrall, are you not?"

She nodded mutely and drew a hand up to cover it. A gesture soon stopped by his hand.

"There is no need to hide it from me," he said, dropping her hand. "Your kind are known to me. Though the practice of keeping slaves has long been abolished in Vanaheim, not all realms have followed."

Y/N simply stared. Who was this man? His accent was the same as Hogun's, but a little more refined. "I really ought to be going," she said instead. "Or my mistress will serve my head to me on a silver platter."

"She sounds fearsome."

"You don't know the half of it," she muttered under her breath.

"Who is your mistress?"

Y/N's eyes widened. Silently she cursed her tongue for running her into an early grave.

"You need not look so frightened," he assured her. "I am simply curious."

"Her Highness," she replied, relieved to find that her voice did not tremble as her legs did. "Princess Sigyn."

"Ahh," he murmured, as though that explained everything.

"I hate to appear rude Sir-"

"Iyan," he interrupted her. "My name," he explained. "Iyan."

"I cannot possibly call you by your given name Sir," Y/N gasped. "It is neither proper nor my place to do so."

"I have heard you speak honestly about your mistress," he reminded her, causing her cheeks to flush. "I will not be offended or scandalised if you were to call me the name I was given at birth."

"But Sir," she protested, "I couldn't possibly."

"I insist," he said, grinning.

"Oh alright," she mumbled and looked briefly over her shoulder before looking back to him. "Iyan."

"There, that wasn't so hard now was it?" He praised.

Y/N allowed herself a small smile and shook her head.

"Will you give me your name?" Iyan asked, "now that you know mine?"

A mischievous twinkle entered her e/c eyes when she shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "No, Sir, I do not think I will."

"Why ever not?"

"Because," she replied, "names are immensely personal things. One should be careful who they give them to. I will take my leave." With those words, she curtsied and disappeared down the corridor.

Iyan stared after her long after she had disappeared. The mark on her cheek singled her out as much more than a thrall. What in the Nine had she done to deserve such a marking? It was evident that she knew magic, he had seen it for himself. But the Traitor's Star? It was very rarely given and Iyan found himself hard pressed to believe that the young woman he had just spoken to was capable of high treason.

If Sigyn was indeed her mistress, then surely she would know. His curiosity grew with each passing minute. More so, why would his sister allow some one such as her become her maid? Sigyn had supported him when he had moved to abolish slavery in their home realm. Just what had lead to her owning one? What was she not saying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credit(s): 'Lift The Wings' from Riverdance and sung by Lisa Kelly from Celtic Woman. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-z52lF2Sq4


	35. A promising threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We drink the poison our minds pour for us and wonder why we feel so sick. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Sigyn did not remain in the healing rooms for long. Though the poison had long since left her system, her body was left weakened. With the help of an apprentice healer, the Princess had made her way to her chambers.

The moment the healer had departed, Sigyn stood up from the bed. It was evident that Y/N had been there that morning. Loki too, it seemed, had spent the night in their bed despite her absence. Unwelcome images came to life in her mind.

That troublesome maid would pay for what she had allowed that snake of hers to do. Staggering to the small desk that stood by one of the larger windows, she sat down, her head falling into her hands. Her magic was as yet too weak to probe for the elf's whereabouts and she was sorely tempted to send a guard to search for her instead.

No. That would not do. That wench undoubtedly believed herself above a severe beating. One that would remind her of the power Sigyn held and was unafraid to wield.

Closing her eyes, she focused once more. Within her she felt her own seidr stir. Grunting with the effort, she sought out the maid's face. The scarred features soon took shape behind her closed lids. Her magic answered her weakened call. "Find her," she whispered. "Find her and lure her here."

A weak trail of seidr left her clasped hands and drifted through the room and out into the corridor beyond.

Even after having served in the palace for near on half a year, Y/N was still surprised at the sheer weight of the bed linens. With Jörmungandr having made himself comfortable atop the soft pile in her arms, she traced her way back to the Royal Wing of the palace. 

"You know," she muttered as they turned to ascend the servant's staircase. "Sometimes I believe that it is your fault that people give us a wide berth." 

"Oh really?" The snake replied, raising an invisible eyebrow. "So it would have nothing, nothing at all, to do with the fact that your face carries a literal brand?" 

"Nope," she replied, her expression serious. "I think a talking snake is far more interesting and noteworthy than a healed scar." 

Jörmungandr stared at her before noticing the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Some scar," he muttered, earning a chuckle from her.  


Exiting the stairwell and stepping into the corridor, Y/N stopped short, a small frown cinching her brows together. 

"What is it?" Jörmungandr asked, seeing her eyes narrow. 

"I felt something," she said softly. "Something in my head." 

"A headache?" The serpent supplied. 

Y/N shook her head. "No," she whispered before her eyes widened. "Did you hear that?" 

Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes at her. "What am I supposed to be hearing exactly?" 

"My name," she replied softly. 

"Whose voice?" 

A small smile curved her lips and a gentle blush brought colour to her cheeks. 

Jörmungandr groaned softly. "I should have known."  


"He is close," she said, fingers curling a fraction tighter around the sheets she carried.

"This is where his rooms are," Jörmungandr pointed out. "So naturally-" 

"Shhh," she whispered harshly and laid a finger against his small lips. 

"I was only pointing out the-" Jörmungandr glared up at her as she cut him off once again, this time her whole palm covered his mouth. 

"Something isn't right," she hissed. "Can you not feel it?" 

Jörmungandr shook his head and canted it to the side in confusion.  


Y/N's eyes darted from side-to-side. "That wasn't him."

"And what makes you so sure?" 

"I have felt his magic before," she replied, eyes still searching the empty corridor. 

"And?" The snake pressed, both curious and impatient. 

"It never felt like this," Y/N said. "This feels foreign. Less sure."

"But it is his voice?" Jörmungandr asked in a much softer tone.  


Y/N nodded as she began to back away. Back towards the stairwell. 

"This could only be one person," the serpent muttered, deep in thought. "But I would be most surprised if she has the strength to manage a spell of this nature." 

"It seems we have underestimated her," Y/N whispered back, finally making it to the stairwell and entering it without hesitation. Leaning back against the stone, she let out a breath she did not know she had been holding in. For the first time in a long while, she felt fear trickle through her, causing her own magic to surge to life and bubble beneath the surface of her skin. 

"You are scared," Jörmungandr murmured, slithering up her arm to nuzzle her cheek. "Aren't you?"

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded. 

"But why?" He asked, "you have stood against Malekith's army. Fought off six of his elves and sent the Warriors Three packing. What is Sigyn when compared to those?" 

She took a shuddering breath and felt the tears gather in her eyes. "When I was told of what had happened to my family," she replied in a trembling voice. "I firmly believed that I had lost everything. That nothing more could be taken from me. That nothing more could be done to hurt me." 

"What made you think otherwise?" Jörmungandr asked gently. 

"She did." 

"You are frightened of her?" 

Y/N shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I am afraid of what more she can take from me. Of what she has already taken and that she will leave me alive to suffer the loss. As the Allfather has done. She used his voice to taunt me. To remind me of what I will never have." 

"Will you go back?" Jörmungandr asked, settling against her collarbone. 

"I have to," she replied. "For my family. For him. For myself." 

"And I will be with you," he said, determination hardening his voice. "No matter what trick she pulls."

Y/N smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to his scaly head. "I know," she murmured. "And I thank you for it." Casting a look over her shoulder, she sighed. She really ought to deliver the sheets to the Allmother's chambers, her maids were expecting them. 

Setting her jaw, she lifted her chin and made for the door. 

The steps she took past Loki and Sigyn's chambers were measured, yet quick. She could not pass it by quick enough. The doors loomed to the side of her, the faint pull of the Princess's seidr emanating from within it.

Hurrying past it, she almost tripped over her own feet, the sheets clutched tight in her arms. 

Standing before the Queen's chambers, she knocked against the solid surface and waited for Frigga's head maid to admit her. Like the Queen herself, the head maid did not look upon her with disgust, but a warm inviting smile that reminded Y/N startlingly of her mother.

"Thank you my dear," the older woman said, taking the sheets from her. "I very much appreciate you doing this and that Her Highness was able to spare you."

Y/N smiled tightly and nodded. "It was no trouble." Waiting until the doors were closed once more, she turned and all but ran down the empty corridor, startling Jörmungandr as she did so. 

Her hurried steps slowed only when she had reached the bottom of the servant's stairwell. Her chest heaved as she breathed. 

"Can you still feel it?" Jörmungandr asked, relaxing his hold on her. 

Y/N shook her head. "No," she panted and breathed in a few more times to calm her racing heart. Straightening up, she smoothed her hair and clothes before moving down the hallway, the touch of Sigyn's spell lingering in the back of her mind. 

Lost in her thoughts, she did not register the presence of another until it was too late and she was trapped between a wall and another body. 

Having been to the Aesir palace a number of times before, Iyan was more familiar with its layout than one might think. His attendant, one who went by the name of Qilar, trailed closely behind him. He remained silent, knowing his King's preference for silence unless it was absolutely necessary to speak. 

Iyan had been made aware of his sister's recovery and was on his way to pay her a visit. He had been told that she was no longer in the healing rooms, but in her own suite. 

Despite the warmth of the Summer sun, the palace had remained cool, whether by an enchantment or not, Iyan did not know. The silver material of his clothing rippled lightly with his movements, his booted feet making hardly a sound as he went in the direction of the Royal Wing. 

Hushed voices drew him to a halt, Qilar stopping just in time to keep from walking into him. The attendant looked to his King with a questioning look in his eyes, but dared not voice his question out loud. 

Canting his head to the side, Iyan inched closer. The voices were as yet still too hushed and far away to make out any words. Though it was evident that they were male and female. Gesturing for Qilar to remain where he was, Iyan moved even closer, almost tripping when he could finally distinguish who the voices belonged to.

"Well technically, if it is specifics you are looking for...." 

"Darling, you know full well what I am asking," Loki replied. "Specifics be damned." 

Iyan's eyes widened. Cloaking himself, he edged closer until the pair stood not five feet from him. The maid he had spoken with not two days before was looking up at the Prince with a small smile playing at her lips. 

"Language," she tutted, lightly tapping his chest. 

Iyan watched as Loki took hold of her wrist and pulled her impossibly closer, his lips brushing against her pointed ears. "Remember who you are speaking to. I can smell a lie from a mile away."

The maid's cheeks coloured a becoming shade of red as she bit her lower lip, evidently to keep from smiling too widely. 

"So I ask you again," Loki continued, nipping lightly at her earlobe. "Was it you?" 

When she didn't answer, he sighed and leaned slightly away to look her in the eye. "Y/N Hrókrdóttir, you will answer me. Or will I have to kiss the truth out of you?" 

Iyan was sure his jaw had clanged when it hit the floor. So that was her name? Her words from their previous conversation came hurtling back and rung in his ears as surely as Loki's did. "Immensely personal," he whispered to himself as he watched them. What was the maid thinking, giving something that was apparently so precious to one such as he? A Prince and a married one at that?! 

"That doesn't sound like much of a threat," Y/N replied, making no move to back away or to free her still captive wrist. "More like a reward." 

The Prince looked down at her, his thin lips twitching with the effort it took to restrain a smile of his own. "One you will only receive if you answer my question." 

"Must you be so cruel my love?" She sighed dramatically, slumping against the wall, her wrist still held by the Prince. 

"My love?" Iyan mouthed silently. What in the Nine was going on here? 

"Only when necessary," Loki replied, winking and tugging her forward so she fell against him. 

Huffing at the sudden impact, Y/N tried and failed to glare at him. "And now is one of those times?" 

Nodding, Loki lowered his head, his lips brushing lightly against hers. 

"Oh very well," she huffed.

Any answer she gave went unheard by Iyan as he backed away, the image of the Prince kissing the maid was branded in his mind. How was he to face his sister with the knowledge that her husband was being unfaithful, even if it was with a mere palace maid?

"Your Majesty?" Qilar whispered, seeing his King's troubled gaze.

"Let us go," Iyan muttered, suddenly needing to be as far away as possible.

Qilar's confusion returned full-force when Iyan turned and walked in the opposite direction to the suites of the Royal family. "Majesty?" He asked as he followed the young king.

"Please send my sister my apologies," he replied without turning around. "I will not be able to visit her today."

"Of course," Qilar replied, bowing.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose, Iyan strode purposefully down the hallway, guards and servants bowing as he passed. He saw not one of them. "And send the maid Y/N Hrókrdóttir to me, there is a matter I must discuss with her." 

"Yes, Your Majesty." 


	36. Believe it or not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have been praying so long for the strength to outlive the pain they inflicted on you, that you have forgotten - you are already strong. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill (Your Strength)

"So let me get this straight," Jörmungandr said from his customary place on her shoulders. "You have never met the man and yet he wants to talk to you?" 

Y/N nodded. "That is about the whole of it, yes." 

"How do you keep getting yourself into these situations?" 

The maid sighed and shook her head. "I honestly have no idea." 

"In any case," the snake muttered, "it certainly can't be good." 

"Why ever not?" Y/N asked, surprised. 

"Think about it," he replied. "The King of Vanaheim is the witch's brother. No good can come of a meeting with either of those two siblings." 

Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her shoulder length h/c hair. "I hope you're wrong," she said softly. "It would not do for me to make enemies out of them both. Let us pray that His Majesty is different from his sister." 

Jörmungandr eyed his charge through narrowed eyes and shook his head. "We had best pray that she has not spoken of you to him."  


"Why in the Nine would she do that?" Y/N demanded. "Dust has more importance in her eyes than I. I highly doubt royals, even nobles, sit around discussing their servants."

"For your sake, I hope you're right." 

"As do I," she sighed, "as do I." 

The remainder of the journey to the guest wing was in silence. Y/N's mind began to wander. How did a foreign King come to even know her name? She was one servant among hundreds. Aside from her brand, she did not particularly stand out. She blended in as best she could and caused as little disturbance among herself and her colleagues as she could. 

Thanking the stars above that each door bore a different carving, she came to a halt before one that bore a cresting wave. It was beautiful and so very intricate and more than once, Y/N had found herself wishing to touch the carvings on the doors. To see if they were truly real, or if they would feel of what they were depicting. 

The door opened to reveal a man who stood only a head taller than she and wore clothing of such fine fabric, the colour of a clear Summer sky. His hair was styled in the same way Iyan's had been, though the braid bore no beads. It was merely held together by a sturdy looking black ribbon. 

The man did not introduce himself, he merely nodded to the guards that stood on either side of the door and gestured for Y/N to step through. "This way," was all he said as he lead her in the suite's sitting room. 

It was not often that she entered the guest suites. She had heard stories that each room was different. That each reflected what was carved on its door. So now, around her were different, varying shades of blue that reflected the sea. She smiled faintly. She had never had the chance to see the ocean, having only seen the lakes and ponds in the forest that surrounded her village. 

Y/N felt her fingers twitch with the urge to touch a nearby ornament. Fashioned out of white marble it was and resembled a rather intricate seashell. The marble's silver veins caught in the light. 

She barely heard it as her guide departed and left her in the company of another. 

Iyan watched her silently for a moment. Her obvious restraint amused him. His temporary chambers were beautiful to be sure, and so very different to his own on Vanaheim. She did not move to explore as he had perhaps expected her to. She stood where Qilar had left her, letting her eyes do the wandering. 

What he had witnessed the day before came to the forefront of his memory and his eyes immediately hardened. The smile that had been playing at the edges of his mouth disappeared. She was beautiful, even he could not deny it. Even with that horrific disfigurement and her lowly status. Even so, she had no right to seduce the Prince, who did she think she was?

"Y/N?" He finally spoke. 

She spun around so fast she almost lost her balance. Her eyes widened a fraction before she sank into a dutiful curtsy. "Sir," she greeted him and rose. "Are you here to speak with the King also?" 

Iyan stared at her. How daft was she? The obvious was glaring her in the face and yet she did not see it. 

After a beat of silence, she spoke again. "You appear to know my name Sir, might I ask how?" 

"You may ask," he replied, "but that does not guarantee an answer from me." 

At his answer, she laughed. Her e/c eyes sparkled with amusement and it startled him. The sound of her soft laughter carried through the room like a pleasant tune. The moment it faded, she nodded. "I suppose you are right there Sir." 

"As to how I come to know your name," Iyan said, stepping closer. "Well, one might say I heard it said by another." 

"Oh," she said quietly. A look of resignation entered her eyes that made her look terribly sad and weary. It was not the look of someone conducting an illicit affair with a married man, no. She bore the look of one whose armour was slowly cracking and breaking down. She looked timid and for a moment as though she were bracing herself for something. "Which one was it?" She asked, looking down, her voice small.

Iyan was confused. "Which what was it?" 

Y/N sighed heavily. "Which rumour was it? I can assure you I know them all Sir." 

Iyan was well aware of the rumours. Not all of them kind. The majority painted her in a rather cruel light. Depicting her as selfish, power hungry and deceptive. But Iyan saw none of those in her now. 

"It was no rumour," he assured her, not sure where this urge to comfort her came from. 

She merely nodded and opted to stay silent. 

In the wake of her silence, Iyan spoke. "I heard one of the Princes say it." 

"Which one Sir?" 

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sorry?" 

"There are two Princes Sir," Y/N explained. 

"I think we both know of whom I speak." 

At last she looked up. There was no discernible look of shame in her eyes as she met his gaze head on. "I see," was all she said. 

"Do you?" Iyan demanded. 

If his harsher tone took her by surprise, she hid it well. 

"Have you not even the decency to be ashamed of yourself?" He hissed. "I believe even servants, nay thralls, are capable of such an emotion?" He watched her flinch at the use of her title. "Do you have any idea what you have done? And yet you do not beg for my silence or possible forgiveness." 

"Why," she said softly but firmly too. "Would I be ashamed to be seen with the man I love?" 

"Because he is a married man," Iyan replied with forced calm. "And a Prince, someone well above your station."

When she smiled, it was a sad one. "Know you the reasons for his marriage to Her Highness, Sir?" She asked, her voice as steady as her gaze. 

Iyan nodded. "Everyone does. A treaty between their two realms. It is not uncommon." 

"That reason Sir," she said, "was only used as an excuse to cover the true reason."

Iyan crossed his arms and looked down at her. "And what might that be?" 

"Very simple," Y/N replied. "To forget me." 

At this, Iyan laughed. "Aren't you thinking a little too high of yourself? You are a maid, a glorified slave!" 

Y/N shook her head, her eyes going distant. "I wasn't always," she murmured before blinking and looking back to him. "If this marriage was truly for the good of both realms, then Her Highness would have been married to Prince Thor. He is the heir after all." 

Iyan glared at her. She was right, damn it all. "It does not excuse your actions," he replied. "You have betrayed the the trust of your mistress in the foulest way possible."

"I have betrayed no one," Y/N said, daring to lift her chin. "For I cannot betray what I never had." 

"You would dare to speak so? You would dare to be so disrespectful and so ungrateful?" Iyan demanded. "One such as you ought to be more thankful." 

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. "Thankful?" She repeated in a whisper. "Thankful that I now serve under those that took everything from me? Thankful for a branded, disfigured face? Thankful for a murdered family? I gave this realm my life and in return what did I get? A brand to the face and a dead family. Ought I to be thankful for that Sir?" She asked, tears burning behind her eyes. "Ought I to be thankful for my stolen freedom? My destroyed life? Should I be thankful that the only man I will ever love has been married off to some unfaithful harpy in order to forget me? Is that what I should be grateful for?" Y/N felt her chest heave as she fought for control. Her jaw quivered and her tears were threatening to break free.

In the silence that followed her words, Iyan stared at her. There was no lie in her eyes. Only pain. "What did you call her?" He asked quietly. 

Steeling herself, Y/N answered. "You heard me Sir. You would accuse me of seducing the Prince, when his own wife has been unfaithful from the beginning." 

"You would dare to make such baseless accusations? She is your superior." 

Y/N nodded. "I know," she replied, "but that does not make my words any less true." 

"Why should I believe you? Your word is nothing against hers." 

"That is true," she agreed. "You have no reason to believe me. I am nothing and no one. But if you wish to retain the dignity of your people, why not ask her yourself and discover the truth? Though she will likely deny it." 

"You have some nerve," Iyan said, folding his arms. "Speaking to me of Her Highness like this."  


"I have stood by for too long," Y/N replied. "Her actions cause him harm and that is something I could never allow." 

"And what if I were to report you to your mistress?" 

"I would remain unsurprised if you did so," she said. 

Iyan observed her for a moment before saying, "you may go." 

"But Sir," Y/N protested. "The King sent for me, it would not do for me to leave before he has imparted whatever he wished to say." 

Iyan sighed inwardly. "I will be sure to tell him you were here." 

"Please do," she whispered before curtsying and taking her leave. 

Qilar watched her leave with surprise. His wide eyes followed her retreating form until the doors closed behind her. "Majesty?" He asked, confused. "Did you not wish to speak with her?"

Iyan smiled wryly. "And I did," he replied without turning. "Send a message to my sister, I will be coming to visit her today." 

Qilar bowed, "yes Your Majesty." 

As his attendant left the rooms, Iyan sighed and sat on of one the plush couches and let his head drop in his hands. The maid's words rung in his ears. Would Sigyn dare to do such a thing? Never, in all the long years they had shared, had she displayed such tendencies. 

Was it all for show? The tenderness and devotion he saw between them at the feasts? Was it all to simply please those that always watched them? Shaking his head, Iyan stood and stretched. Y/N may simply be a maid, but the words she spoke and the accusation she made were anything but small. They posed questions that demanded answers.


	37. Rosy illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you really know what turns me on? What I find incredibly sexy? Kindness.
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

After having missed a good hour or so of work, Y/N knew that Sigyn would not be so lenient. Even if her excuse was valid.

So there she was, having been sent by the Princess to administer to the laborious task of the laundry. Usually seen to by the laundresses and their assistants, Y/N had been instructed to wash a rather large selection of the Princess's evening gowns.

_"This ought to keep you busy for the time you have wasted," Sigyn had said before shooing her out the door, mere moments before Loki himself had arrived._

She had started in the morning and it was now near to reaching midday. Jörmungandr had taken it upon himself to amuse her. To lighten the load as much as he could and to ensure that the day sped by. Y/N needed her rest as much as her colleagues. 

All around her hung the most beautiful dresses Y/N had ever seen. All in various states of drying. The weather was gracious that day and the sun was shining without the obstruction of clouds. As some fabrics were more delicate, Y/N had used a touch of seidr to lessen the harshness of the light. 

Sweat dripped from her brow and stray strands of hair dangled before her eyes as she worked. Her arms ached and she was positive that her hands would be made permanently red from the warm water. 

"How's your back?" Jörmungandr asked from his perch at the edge of the wash tub. 

"My back?" Y/N asked, confused. 

"You know, with all that bending," Jörmungandr explained. "It can't be good for you and not to mention that you're not able to sweat properly because of the scars." 

Y/N smiled and shook her head, adding a little more of the rose scented powder that Sigyn seemed so fond of. "You needn't worry. But yes, it certainly doesn't tickle. As for the scars, luckily for me, it isn't Summer. Then I will have big trouble. Now the mild heat isn't so bad." 

"Let's hope her mood improves by then," the snake muttered. 

Y/N chuckled, "the chances of that are less than slim. She will simply find something else, just you wait." 

The air around them was filled with the pleasant scent of her magic mixed with rose. It was comforting, almost as though she were in a flower garden and not in the palace laundry. 

The bell for the midday meal came and her colleagues for the day departed for the servant's hall to eat. Sigyn's words rang in her ears as the smell of the food wafted lightly in her direction. 

_"You will not stop," she had said as she had layered gown after gown into Y/N's arms. "Not until all of these are cleaned and dried. Not even to eat. Am I understood?"_

Jörmungandr remained silent, he too had heard those words and silently cursed the Princess for them. Working someone to the bone wasn't going to help anyone. So Y/N remained at it. Even as her temporary workmates returned, she continued without a word. Silently ignoring the muttered remarks and disdainful whispers thrown her way.  


The sun was barely over the horizon by the time she collected the last gown from where it hung. Using her gentlest magic, Y/N smoothed any wrinkles from the fine fabric and carried them carefully in her arms. 

Had she not been so focused on what was in her arms, she might have heard Jörmungandr's warning. She might have seen a fellow servant maliciously stretch out their leg, right in her path. 

With a grunt she fell to her knees, the gowns falling to the ground. The snickering of the servant was all she heard as she proceeded to gather up the garments, carefully inspecting each one. 

As Jörmungandr hissed and spat poisonous curses at the retreating servant, Y/N carefully folded the dresses back over her arms. Using the wall beside her for leverage, she pushed herself to her feet and almost stumbling for a second time as a vicious pain lanced itself through her knees. 

Gritting her teeth, she began to walk, each step more painful than the last. From his spot on her shoulders, Jörmungandr could clearly see that she was in pain. Yet she said not a word as she traced her way back to the Royal wing. The sun had long since set and the golden light of the flickering torches cast a warm and comforting light on the palace walls. 

Easing the door open with her shoulders, Y/N slipped into the chambers Sigyn shared with Loki. The chambers were mercifully empty and Y/N, as quietly and as quickly as she could, made her way to the Princess's extensive wardrobe. 

Laying the gowns down one by one, she sorted through them and began to hang them back where they belonged. As she came to the last one however, a rather large unsightly mark caught her eye. A mark in the shape of a bootprint. 

"Oh no," she whispered, running a hand through her hair. "No, no, no. This cannot be happening." How in the Nine was she to clean this? She prayed that her seidr would come to her aid, it was just a footprint, nothing to worry about. 

Letting her hand hover over the gown, she focused her magic and pouring it towards the mark. As her magic worked, she looked over to Jörmungandr. "What if this doesn't work?"

"There is no reason to believe as to why it shouldn't," the snake replied and slithered closer. His eyes narrowed as he peered at the offending mark. "That's from that servant, isn't it?" 

Y/N nodded. "I think so, yes." 

"Bastard," Jörmungandr muttered under his breath. 

Y/N watched intently as her magic worked, worrying at her bottom lip as her hands trembled. 

"I don't think its coming out," Jörmungandr whispered fearfully. "Look." 

And look she did. "How did that spell not work?" She murmured, eyes narrowing in thought as her heart hammered. Who knew when Sigyn would return from wherever she had gotten to? 

"Maybe you said the wrong words?" Jörmungandr suggested. 

"No, no," she whispered frantically to herself before snatching the gown up. "There is nothing for it, I must go back to the laundry and clean it there." 

"At this hour? There will be no one there." 

"Perfect."

Jörmungandr had little warning before she scooped him up and dashed from the room. In her hurry, she failed to see the shape of a silent observer whose keen eyes followed her as she made her way back to the back of the palace.  


As anticipated, the doors to the laundry were closed and locked for the night. Cursing under her breath, Y/N used a flash of seidr to unlock the large padlock that held the doors closed. Slipping inside, she quickly made for the nearest wash tub and immediately filled it with warm water. 

Hidden in the shadows he watched her. Flitting through the room, gathering what items she needed. He watched as she summoned a small witchlight to guide her as she scrubbed at the fabric using one of the more delicate brushes. 

Head bent over her work, he could not see her face, yet he knew it to be flushed. More than once he had fought the temptation to reveal himself and offer his aid. But he knew his Y/N, it was now a matter of pride for her. Any work that was assigned to her she would complete herself. 

Sigyn would be furious that her maid was once again late, but surely her temper would lessen once she knew what Y/N had been doing? 

"There," she announced at last as she hung the newly cleaned gown. "Like nothing ever happened." 

He frowned at her words. Something had happened? 

"I think perhaps you should dry it," her snake suggested. "That way, you can bring it back for her tonight." 

Y/N appeared to take the snake's words into consideration before she nodded. "I suppose I ought to," she replied, glancing at the serpent. "But either way, she'll be angry." 

"She's always angry," Jörmungandr pointed out. "Things would be different if she genuinely smiled at you and meant it." 

"Very true," she muttered before running her hands softly over the gown, thus taking away the moisture and smoothing out any wrinkles. "Much better," she announced and grinned. "She'll be none the wiser." 

Lifting the snake back onto her shoulders, Y/N took the gown and left the laundry, allowing her seidr to clean all that she had used. 

Passing him by, he saw something that made his frown deepen. Why was she limping? And so pronounced too. Following her at a distance, he watched her. The care she took of the gown made him smile. She was treating it as though it were her own. 

Mercifully, the Princess had not yet returned, neither had the Prince. Quickly slipping into the wardrobe, Y/N hung the gown and left. She could not leave fast enough. She knew that the bell would ring for her at a moment's notice. 

As discretely as she could, she made her way back to the servant's quarters and went straight for her room. The moment she sank down on the bed, she stretched out her legs and pulled her skirts up to inspect her knees. A grimace formed as she caught sight of the two ugly bruises that had formed on both knees, wincing as she gingerly pressed down on the darkest part. 

He could wait no longer. Seeing her in pain and now the source of it, he could not bare it. Shedding his cloaking spell, he stepped from the shadows. "Y/N?" 

Her head whipped up at the sound of her name, spoken in that beloved voice. Her eyes did not have to search for long. He emerged from the shadows and sunk to his knees before her. He said nothing as he lay a gentle hand on both knees and allowed his magic to flow in and heal. 

"Will your wife not wonder where you are?" She asked as her voice returned to her. 

The Prince smiled up at her. "Doubles," he said by way of explanation. "She believes she is spending the evening with me by one of the many stone terraces that overlook the gardens." 

Y/N could not help the smile that curved her lips. "You would risk her wrath and anger just to see me?" 

He now saw that it was a sad smile. "I would risk anything and everything," he replied, reaching up to cup her cheek, tenderly running the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. "Now," he said softly, "what happened for you to gain such injuries to your knees?" 

Y/N looked away, averting her eyes and shook her head. 

"Why will you not tell me?" He asked, gently grasping her chin and turning her face to look at him. "What is it? What happened?" 

"Its nothing," she whispered, still not meeting his gaze. "Just a silly accident, I wasn't looking where I was going." 

He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her. "Darling," he whispered back, "you need not lie to me. Please, tell me what happened." 

Finally she looked up. With a gentle nudge from Jörmungandr, she reported what had happened, immediately looking away once she had finished. 

"Why do you look away?" He asked, "you need not be ashamed of it. It is not your fault, but rather the servant's who caused you to fall."

Y/N nodded but said nothing. 

"What can I do to convince you?" He asked desperately, taking her hands in his. "I cannot bare to see you like this." 

This made her smile, leading her to entwine their fingers and raise them to her lips. Tenderly she kissed each of his knuckles and rested their joined hands over her heart. "You need not do anything," she whispered, cradling their joined hands. "Your presence is enough my love." 

The evening was perfect. Taking a deep lungful of the crisp air, Sigyn turned to where her husband was absently tracing the carved design of the terrace's stone railings. As though he felt her eyes upon him, he looked to her. 

The smile he gave her was small, but still there. 

Her dress rippled around her as she walked over to where he was. The evening breeze washed over the bare skin of her arms and made her shiver lightly. Something that did not go unnoticed by him. Very well aware of the few eyes still upon them, Loki drew his cloak around her shoulders, sparing her a kiss to the cheek. "There we are my dear," he whispered and drew her close to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. 

Little did she know these actions to be mirrored. In her modest room, Y/N had never slept sounder, nor more securely. With his arms around her, her back pressed to his chest and his head tucked into her shoulder, she had never felt safer, or more loved. 

"I love you," she whispered into the dark of her room. 

The Prince stirred behind her and smiled sleepily. "I love you too," he replied softly. 

Y/N smiled to herself and turned in his arms to face him, tucking herself against him and felt her heart swell as his arms tightened ever so slightly around her. In the dark of the night she let him hold her, for the light of day would bring its own troubles. 


	38. The little wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill

"Is it not time you told someone?" Iyan asked, sitting beside his sister before a roaring fire in her chambers. "Even if it is merely one of the healers. They are bound by an oath and will keep it secret until you give your permission."

Sighing, Sigyn nodded, worrying at her bottom lip. "I know," she sighed.

"I really do believe that it should be from you that he hears it," Iyan murmured, gently patting her knee.

"Do I have to tell him?" Sigyn asked, looking up across at her brother. "Why can't I simply cast an illusion?"

Iyan sighed and shook his head before wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Our duty to our people comes before our own personal comforts and desires," he said softly. "You and I grew up like that, we were taught it from our youngest years. Mother and father ensured it."

"I wish it were not so," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Aye," Iyan agreed softly. "But it is. Although," he let out a heavy breath, his gaze going to the fire. "I suppose it is a blessing in disguise that you were not wed to the older Prince. The pressure surrounding you now would have been increased tenfold."

Sigyn merely hummed in agreement and followed her brother's gaze to the fire. The dancing flames fascinated her and their warmth comforted her. The rooms she shared with her husband often felt cold and his presence did not nothing to alleviate it. He seemed to bring the cold with him.

"I still believe you ought to tell him," Iyan said softly, "before he hears it as yet another rumor concerning you."

At this, Sigyn sat up straight and narrowed her eyes at her brother. "Rumors?" She repeated softly. "What rumors?"

Iyan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "There is one in particular," he replied, "that concerns your, shall we say, _commitment_ to your husband."

Sigyn said nothing, her gaze hardening.

"Sister tell me and tell me true," Iyan said, "have you been with anyone other than your husband?"

"Iyan," she hissed. "You would doubt me? Doubt the oaths you heard me make?"

"Sigyn," he said, his voice dropping low with warning. "Look me in the eye and tell me that the rumors are false."

"You would accuse me?" She said softly, her voice gaining a dangerous edge.

"I would have you tell me the truth," Iyan replied firmly. "So that I might better defend you against those that would slander you."

"Such filth," Sigyn muttered. "Where did you hear it?"

"Sigyn-"

"The servants? The guards perhaps?" She rambled, "or maybe the maids?"

Iyan clenched his jaw as his impatience grew. Her avoidance of an answer planted a seed of dread within him. Maybe Y/N was right after all.

Her eyes narrowed further into snake-like slits and her lips curled into a sneer. "Or maybe it was one in particular?" She whispered.

"SIGYN!"

Her brother's raised voice cut her rambling short and drew her to look at him with widened eyes. "Yes?"

"You will answer my question sister," he said. "Or I will be forced to believe what I have heard."

"There will be no need for that," she replied, her sneer morphing into a small smile.

"I sincerely hope not," Iyan said.

The soft opening and closing of the chamber's main doors drew the sibling's attention for a brief moment. A young woman entered, and in her arms she carried a breathtaking arrangement of flowers.

Iyan looked to his sister and saw her hazel eyes glare at the newcomer. He turned from her and watched the maid, whom he soon recognised to be Y/N. With the grace that her race was known for, she deftly placed the floral arrangement on the marble side-table beneath a rather ornate mirror.

She made hardly a sound as she moved, her slippers padding softly over the rich carpets. Her hands danced lightly over the flowers and settled them, gently rearranging them to be more pleasing to the eye.

Either she did not know that she was being watched, or she was simply choosing to ignore them.

It was only when she turned in their direction that Iyan realised he must have said her name out loud. Her eyes widened a fraction before she sunk into a dutiful curtsy. "Good afternoon Sir," she replied. "Your Highness," she added respectfully as she noticed Sigyn.

"Sir?" Sigyn repeated as though horrified. "You ignorant girl. Do you not know to whom you are speaking?"

Rising out of the curtsy, Y/N shook her head and kept her gaze trained on the carpet below.

"Come here," the Princess commanded, "stand before me. No, I think it would be best if you knelt. A small penance for your grievous mistake."

Not daring to hesitate, Y/N moved to kneel before them. Mistake? Had she not addressed him as he deserved? She had not called him by his given name, so where was her error?

"You have insulted your superior and your better," Sigyn said above her. "Your apparent ignorance will not save you. Not as perhaps you were hoping."

Y/N said nothing, even as she felt Jörmungandr's unseen presence tighten slightly around her arm as though in comfort. 

"Sister please," Iyan said, rising and moving to stand before the kneeling maid. 

Y/N felt her eyes widen before she quickly schooled her features. Oh what a fool she had been! Horror flooded through her as the truth finally dawned. All this time she had been addressing the King of Vanaheim as though he were some lesser noble. Her heart stuttered in fear and her blood ran cold. 

She started when she felt two gentle fingers lift her chin. Swallowing hard, she looked up and met his gaze. There was no cruelty in his eyes, no malice or even a hint of offence. "It is evident that you truly did not know who I was when we first met and I made no move to correct you." 

"Why?" Sigyn asked, her lips curling as she glanced down at her maid before looking back to her brother. "Why allow her to show such blatant disrespect?" 

"Because," Iyan replied and let her chin drop. "It was no disrespect. She addressed me as who she believed me to be. She is but a servant, she cannot be expected to know what we do." 

"All the serving staff know who you are," Sigyn shot back. "All but her. Perhaps she was hoping that my husband would protect her?" Anger rose within her, a vicious white hot fury. "It was, wasn't it?" She hissed, her attention now on Y/N. "You were hoping he would step in, didn't you, you whore!"

"Sister!" Iyan cut in, his voice lightly raised as he caught her lifted hand. "Control yourself. It is unbecoming of your station and embarrassing to your person." 

Y/N said nothing, the Princess's words hanging heavily in the air. As untrue as they were, they cut deep. 

"Compose yourself," Iyan was saying to his sister who was glaring daggers at her maid. Looking to the maid, Iyan said softly but firmly, "leave us." 

Nodding, Y/N rose to her feet and swiftly left the chambers, closing the doors gently. 

The moment she was a safe distance from the Royal wing, she stopped and leaned heavily against the wall, a hand pressed to her chest. Her heart thundered beneath her palm. 

Making himself visible, Jörmungandr moved to settle around her shoulders. 

"How did I not see it?" Y/N muttered. "How did I not know who he was?" 

"Hush now," the snake soothed. "How were you to possibly know?" 

"Everyone knows," she replied. 

"Aye," he agreed. "But you were not here the last time he visited and no one saw fit to tell you. Your mistake was an honest one." 

Nodding, Y/N rested her head against the cool marble and took a few deep, calming breaths. 

"Look who it is." 

Y/N heard herself groan at the sound of that voice. Turning to face the speaker, she pasted on the barest hint of a smile. "Good afternoon gentlemen." 

"Shouldn't you be bowing?" Fandral asked as she met his gaze. 

Y/N shook her head. "Only if the person is my superior." She watched with barely concealed satisfaction as her words took effect. 

"You would dare to speak to us like that?" Volstagg hissed, rounding on her and towering over her. "You are nothing, less than the dust that is stirred by the breeze." 

"If I am nothing," she replied and folded her hands before her. "Then why is it that it is my magic that protects this realm? If I am nothing, I could easily withdraw it and the shield would not crumble." 

"You think very highly of yourself, don't you?" Hogun asked softly. 

Y/N smiled thinly. "Someone has to." 

"If it were anyone else in your position," Fandral spoke up, "they would be on their knees and patiently waiting for whatever duty we might command of them. Anyone else might know their place. Something you clearly do not." 

Y/N raised an eyebrow and sighed. "I know my place," she replied. "And waiting on you is not it. Not when my mistress is the Princess herself."

"You should have remained in exile," Volstagg muttered under his breath. 

"I cannot tell you how much I agree with your statement," she said and smirked at the blatant shock on his face. 

"Agreeing with us will not move you into our good opinions," Fandral remarked. 

"Oh dear, how ever will I survive?" Y/N retorted. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to be getting on with. A concept that is no doubt foreign to you. Good day." 

Before the three could say a word more, the maid turned on her heels and made her way down the hall, her snake peaking out from her dress and flicking his tongue at them. 

"She must be dealt with," Hogun said as she disappeared around the corner. 

"I agree," Volstagg muttered. "She cannot be allowed to act as she does. She has nothing and yet she acts as though nothing has changed." 

"I suggest we bring this up during the next training session," Fandral said. "This way, Thor will be there and hopefully speak to the King. Her arrogance cannot go unchecked." 

"She believes herself to be untouchable," Hogun murmured, "she has the trust of the Dark Prince."

"His affections too, some might say," Fandral replied, folding his arms. 

Muttering in agreement, the trio proceeded to make their way down the corridor. 

Once her brother had left, Sigyn stared into the fire. He was right, it would only be a matter of time before the stories started. Before the whispers began. This was something that only she and her family knew. Looking down, she saw her hands tremble lightly, this would not be an easy matter to discuss with her husband. She had never seen Loki with a child or even heard stories of him with children. Her heart hammered in her chest, not for the first time did she wonder what kind of a father he would be. 

Letting her head fall into her hands, she sighed loudly. This had not been part of her plan for the day. In truth, she had hoped to put this off for as long as possible. Lifting her head, she looked to the side and saw the sun begin to set. Iyan had stayed for a good while. She missed her family and cherished the moments she had with them when they came to visit. 

"Now or never," she whispered to herself before standing and smoothing her hair and gown. Though the decision of who to tell first was still a little hazy in her mind. Her husband or the Queen? Sigyn knew that Frigga was not all that fond of her. This news most likely would only lead the Queen to disliking her more. "Let us hope she appreciates the honesty," she muttered to herself as she left her chambers behind. 

In all honesty, she had no idea where she might find the Queen. At dusk she could be anywhere. Briefly stopping a passing maid, she inquired as to the Queen's whereabouts and was told that she was currently in the rose garden, collecting the evening dew that had begun to settle on the petals. 

The rose garden was not quite far enough for Sigyn. She had hoped to have a little more time to bolster herself and her scattered mind. Her hands shook as she wiped them on her gown, grimacing at the thought that perhaps she had left marks behind. With slow, measured steps, she made her way to the garden. 

It was beautiful to be sure. A white marble fountain bubbled happily in the centre of it all, the clear water catching on the setting sun. The scent of roses filled the cooling air. Casting her gaze around, the Princess found the Queen nearby. Her presence had evidently not been noted yet. 

Swallowing hard, she set her jaw and lifted her chin, forcing her heart to calm down. "You can do this," she murmured, hoping that her resolve would not fail her. Moving closer with slow steps, she edged closer to the Queen, her gown rustling lightly on the soft grass. 

Frigga looked up at the soft steps and smiled at the young woman. "Sigyn my dear," she greeted her, throwing the Princess off with her warm smile. 

"Your Majesty," she replied, dipping into a light curtsy and rising to meet her gaze. 

"What brings you to the rose garden this evening?" Frigga asked, handing a small finely carved marble pitcher to her handmaid. 

"I was looking to speak with you." 

The Queen raised an eyebrow and smiled softly. "Do tell, I am most intrigued."

This was it. This was what Iyan had encouraged her to do and it was long overdue. "I-" she began, feeling her mouth go dry. "I wish to speak with you regarding the postponed celebrations of Loki's and my anniversary." As the words left her, she hated herself for her cowardice. She wasn't ready, she thought she was. She had tricked herself into believing it even. 

Frigga's smile widened and she reached out, surprising Sigyn further by taking one of her hands and squeezing it gently. "There is no need to worry," she replied. "It is all in hand and soon the whole of Asgard will be celebrating." 

"I am relieved to hear it," Sigyn replied. 

"As am I," the Queen said and withdrew her hand. "Two years of marriage is nothing to be shrugged off." 

Sigyn simply nodded and smiled politely before quietly taking her leave and wandering back to her chambers. The moment she entered, she fell to her knees and wept. Never in her life had she felt more pathetic than she did now. What Princess was she that could not even bare children? The healers in Vanaheim had confirmed it when she became of age and even then she had refused to believe it. No cure had been found for a barren womb. 

Hefting the weighty basket of clean towels to sit against her hips, Y/N made her last journey for the day. Once she had completed this task, she was likely to be let off for the night, unless Sigyn's whims told her otherwise. 

Humming softly to herself, she made her way down the torch-lit corridors. Her hair was now almost long enough for her to braid, but as yet was still a little too short. Strands that had worked themselves loose throughout the day brushed across her eyes and she was forced to set the basket down to tuck the strands behind her ear. 

Continuing with her task, Y/N soon found herself lost in thought. What would Sigyn's temperament be like that evening considering her behaviour that afternoon? She was likely to be snappier than usual and would most likely give Y/N the cold shoulder. 

Shaking her head to clear it, she looked to see where she was and sighed in defeat when she saw where she was. She was nowhere near the Royal wing, but rather in the hall that the nobles would pass through to enter the feasting hall. Swearing under her breath, she quickly turned and was about to head back the way she had come, when a voice she did not recognise stopped her. 

"Stop right there." It was female and she sounded high-born. 

Excellent. This was all she needed. It had been a mercifully long time since anyone aside from her fellow servants acknowledged her presence. She knew people whispered about her, but they never, ever spoke directly to her. 

Dropping her basket in her haste, Y/N fell to her knees and bowed her head. "Milady." 

"So the traitorous scum does know respect," the young noble Lady mused and toed the fallen basket and its contents with the tip of her shoe. "Quite the mess you've made," she said. "Better clean it up before anyone sees, or it'll be a beating for you."

Before Y/N could say a word more, the Lady turned on her heels and swept away. 

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, Y/N began to gather the fallen towels and folded them neatly to place back in the basket. The evening feast was due to begin soon then, she did not have much time. 

She did not know just how badly her hands had been trembling until another stopped her actions. The touch was gentle but firm and it startled her. Looking up, she met the face of one of the kinder palace guards. She did not know his name, but yet he was the only one to ever offer her a kind smile when she passed him by. Now he was here, why?" 

"Allow me," he said softly and took the partially folded towel from her hands and placed it in the basket beside her. 

"Why are you helping me?" She could not help but ask. 

"Why should I not?" 

His reply surprised her. The smile he sent her was no different than the ones he had sent her before and it warmed her to know that perhaps not everyone in the palace hated her. "You know what I am," she mumbled. "Why risk being seen with me?" 

His answer was a soft laugh and had her look to him in surprise. "You and I both know that that brand is falsely given," he said. 

"What makes you say that?" 

His smile became sad. "I knew your brother, Vídarr." 

"You knew him?" Y/N whispered in shock, the mention of her late brother burning her eyes with tears. 

The guard nodded. "He and I served together, in the last war. He saved my life." 

"I see," she said softly, blinking back the tears.

"He told me about you," the guard said. "He spoke of his family often."

"You know about me?"

He nodded. "Indeed. Although, I never imagined that this would be how we would meet."

"Is my brother the reason for your kindness?"

The guard shook his head. "Only partially. I have seen the way your fellow servants speak of you but never to you. I have seen their little tricks towards you. You are a hard worker, and one that should not be treated as such. Especially one that helped to protect this realm," at her shock, he nodded. "Oh yes, I know all about it, including what you personally did to ensure our safety."

Tears clouded her vision at his words. "You speak so kindly of me," she whispered. "Yet I do not even know your name."

The guard smiled. "Faolán," he replied and held out a hand for her to take.

Smiling shakily, Y/N grasped his hand with hers and shook it. "Y/N, though I am sure you already knew that."

Faolán's smile lit up his face, the smile curved just enough to show a hint of his white teeth, stark against his darker skin. "Indeed I did, but it is nice to hear it from you nonetheless."

"Your name," she murmured, gathering the last towel into the basket, "it means little wolf, does it not?"

He nodded and helped her stand. Only then did she realise how tall he was, Loki stood just beneath him. "It does," he replied.

Gripping the basket firmly, Y/N smiled up at him. "It suits you."

"Thank you," he replied and moved to stand a short distance from her, "would you like me to escort you to your destination, where ever that may be?"

Y/N regarded him silently for a moment, she was tempted to say no. She did not want someone as kind and gentle as he to get in trouble for helping her. "I am headed to the Royal wing, Her Highness is waiting for me."

"You serve the Princess?"

She nodded. "Indeed I do."

"We had best not keep her waiting then."

"Will your superior mind you helping me?" She asked, "I mean, associating with someone like me could get you into trouble and I do not wish that for you."

"That is very sweet of you," Faolán said and winked. "But you need not worry. Now let us get you to your mistress."

Nodding, Y/N bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide. "Okay," she said softly.

"After you."

And so she led the way to the Royal wing, Faolán walking along side her as though it were the most normal thing for him to do. Shortly before they approached the closed doors to the Princess's chambers, Y/N turned to her companion. "Thank you," she said, balancing the basket with one hand and extending the other. "Not many people would have done what you did for me."

Smiling, he took her offered hand. "You are very welcome. I hope we cross paths again now that we have finally spoken."

"I hope so too," she replied, "it would be nice to have a friend."

Faolán watched her as she disappeared into the the chambers of Princess Sigyn. Her resemblance to Vídarr was startling and made him miss his friend all the more dearly. He would uphold the oath he made to him and to his parents. So much had been taken from her, it was time she was given something in return.


	39. Dream of me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She fell so naturally into my arms like a flower to the sun. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

"You look absolutely beautiful sister," Iyan remarked upon walking into Sigyn's chambers.

The Princess smiled at her brother's words and spun in the emerald gown she wore. Thankfully it had not been damaged during her 'accident' and was as beautiful as it was then. A single emerald hung from each ear, suspended from a delicate golden chain.

Y/N did not even dare to breathe as he stood there, speaking with his sister. She hoped and prayed that he would not see her. It had almost been a week since she found out and the less she had to see him, the better.

"Wherever did you procure such a stunning garment?" Iyan was asking, marveling at the way the gold ran seamlessly through the green.

"The royal tailors," Sigyn replied. "I requested something special for the occasion."

"They did not disappoint," he murmured.

Y/N was seething and she felt Jörmungandr react, his body tightening around her shoulders. She really ought to have expected this, that her work would be played off as being created by another. There was no way that Sigyn would ever admit to her gown having been created by a servant, a thrall no less. Her nails dug into her palms and threatened to break the skin and her teeth were clenched so tight they began to hurt. 

"He will forget all when he sees you," Iyan said and smiling warmly at his sister. "You are truly a vision sister." 

"Still think you looked better," Jörmungandr whispered in her ear. "The only green she ought to wear is the green of envy." 

Before she could stop herself, Y/N let out a small snort of laughter and held up a hand to cover her mouth and conceal her smile. 

This did not go unnoticed. 

"Do you find something amusing?" Iyan asked, coming to stand before her. 

Rapidly, she shook her head and dropped her hand, schooling her features. "No Your Majesty." 

"I thought not." 

Biting her lip, she waited with baited breath for him to return to Sigyn. 

"You are to remain here for the duration of the celebrations," Sigyn spoke up. "Only the serving staff are permitted in the feasting hall. I will not have you embarrass me before the whole realm, am I understood?" 

Y/N nodded mutely and prayed that Loki would not come. It would not do to see him on such a day, no doubt arrayed in his finest. Her heart clenched at the memory of his words, spoken to her as they held each other close. 

_ "I shall imagine it is you tonight, dancing with me for all the Nine to see. At my side."  _

The moment the chamber doors closed, she went to the window and sat on the cushioned seat. With a heavy sigh, she let her head rest against the stone frame. "As if I would have wanted to be there," she muttered even as her heart twisted painfully at the lie. Casting her eyes to the side, she smiled softly at the sight of the setting sun. Such a display of colours never failed to take her breath away, colours that would never usually mix came together to create a breathtaking display.  


"Did you want to go?" Jörmungandr asked softly, appearing on her shoulders. 

Silently, she shook her head. "No," she replied. 

"I would very much like to believe you," he said, "but that faint shimmer in your eyes tells me otherwise." 

"She does not know the mercy of her words," Y/N said and sighed. "She believes it to be a punishment to remain here. In truth it is a blessing."

"Then why do your eyes keep drifting to the doors?" 

Unable to come up with a believable excuse, she said nothing. With a small gesture of her hand, she brought to life a scene her heart longed to be reality. 

Jörmungandr gasped softly as the chambers transformed into the grand hall. Golden candlelight and intricate floral displays filled the cavernous room. Countless people milled about, their soft chatter made softer still as soft, beautiful music swelled. Their attentions were rapt by a singular couple as they danced to the delicate music. The green of her gown complimented his black leathers and the green of his cloak.  


The snake looked up and saw Y/N watching the scene with a look of indescribable longing. Her eyes followed the couple's movements with such wistfulness and a small smile played at the corners of her lips. He dared not speak and turned his gaze back to the illusion. 

The way the Prince lifted her and the way she spun in his arms, the look in their eyes. It was enough for Jörmungandr to understand that her earlier words just may have been the truth. When the dance ended, the gathered crowd applauded and smiled approvingly as Loki kissed her before them all. A soft sigh drew Jörmungandr's attention back to Y/N, a single tear having traced a glistening path down her cheek. 

With a small wave of her hand, the vision faded and she closed her eyes, a second tear joining the first. 

"That was beautiful," Jörmungandr whispered, gently nudging her hands, urging her to look at him. 

With a watery smile, she nodded, finally opening her eyes. "I wish to go," she admitted, her voice trembling and taking Jörmungandr by surprise. 

"But I thought you said-" Jörmungandr protested and was silenced by a pleading look from her. Defeated, he sighed. "But why? Why subject yourself to such a thing?" 

"Because," she replied and wiped her eyes and cheeks, "because despite the pain it will inevitably cause, I wish to see him. For nigh on a whole week I have not seen him."

"What should happen if they catch you there?" Jörmungandr asked desperately. "What if she is made aware of your presence? Thralls are not permitted anywhere near there."  


"I know," she muttered. "And that is why they will not be seeing _me."_

"And who might they be seeing?" 

Without so much as batting an eyelid, she changed her appearance. The woman she became bore no resemblance at all to her. The gown she wore was of the finest blue silk, dark hair piled up becomingly while sapphire earrings sparkled at her ears. 

"I would say I didn't recognise you," Jörmungandr said, "but unfortunately I do." 

"What?" Y/N asked, surprised. "Why? How?" 

"Take a look in the mirror." 

Confused, she padded over to the Sigyn's full length mirror and inspected her reflection. Her eyes swept over every inch, until at last they came to her face and she swore under her breath. The brand, it had refused to be hidden beneath her magic and stood as glaringly obvious as it always did. 

"See what I mean?" Jörmungandr asked, meeting her gaze in the mirror. 

Sighing, she dissipated the illusion and turned away from the mirror. "Nothing will ever hide it, will it?" 

"I'm afraid not," the serpent murmured and nuzzled her cheek before settling along her collarbone. 

"Then I will simply cloak myself." 

Jörmungandr stared at her and blinked as though he could not quite believe what he was hearing. "Your sense of self preservation is so small I can barely see it."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N scooped him up from her shoulders and lay him on the edge of the bed. "Let's hope this enchantment is strong enough to hide it." With those words, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Only a moment passed before the scent of her magic filled the air and a faint rosy glow surrounded her as the enchantment took hold.

"Did it work?" She asked once the magic had settled.

The face Jörmungandr made had her walking back to the mirror. As clear as day she could see herself. If the cloaking spell had worked, there would be no reflection.

"I think that settles it," he piped up from the bed. "It doesn't look like you'll be going after all."

"Oh yes I will," she replied and pulled her hair free of the ribbon she had secured it with.

"If it isn't long enough to braid," Jörmungandr said, "then it won't be long enough to cover the brand."

Muttering lowly, Y/N turned back to the mirror and groaned upon seeing that he was right. The h/c strands barely covered half of it. "I am still going," she murmured. "I will simply have to hide so no one sees me."

"How you have managed to live this long, I have no idea," Jörmungandr muttered and rested his head on his coiled body.

"And you are coming with me," she informed him and before he could so much as yelp in protest, she had scooped him back up and was out the door.

It was easy to find her way to the great hall. The sound of music and the smell of mouth-watering food guided her along. More than once she'd had to duck behind a pillar or into an alcove to avoid detection by the guards and any lingering servants. Her kind were not allowed into that area of the palace.

"Are we there yet?" Jörmungandr whispered from where he was curled around her neck. 

"Almost," she whispered back before swearing under her breath and dashing behind a pillar to hide from a guard that had just turned the corner. 

"And just where do you think you're off to?" 

Y/N froze and swallowed hard. Around her neck, Jörmungandr had gone completely still, not even daring to breathe. It wasn't until she realised that she recognised the voice that she turned around and came face-to-face with Faolán. 

The guard smiled down at her and folded his arms as he waited for her answer. "Well?" 

"Well you see," she began and took a breath before continuing. "I was just-, oh nevermind." 

"You were hoping to see the celebrations?" He asked gently. 

Looking down, she nodded. "My kind are forbidden from this part of the palace." 

"Your kind?" Faolán asked softly. "Elves?" 

At his question, she looked up. With a sad smile she shook her head. "Thralls," she whispered in reply. 

"I see." 

"I shouldn't be here," she said, avoiding his gaze. "You have every right to report me." 

"Now why would I do something like that?" He asked and gently urged her to look up. "I have not seen the celebrations myself, would you accompany me?" 

Y/N stared up at him, but could detect no lie or hint of mockery. "You could get in trouble for this," she mumbled. 

"Do you wish to go?" 

Wordlessly, she nodded and fidgeted with her hands. 

"Then come along," Faolán said, holding out his arm for her to take. "And fret not, I shall ensure that no one sees you." 

True to his word, no one so much as glanced their way as the pair quietly snuck into the great hall. It was silent, save for the ethereal music that was being played. There was no chatter as Y/N had expected there to be. Curious, she tugged on Faolán's arm and canted her head to the side in question. 

Being taller than she, he could see the cause for such a lull in conversation. Holding a finger to his lips, he motioned for her to follow him. 

Confused, she shadowed him as he moved along the outskirts of the crowd until he stopped. Curious, she made to whisper a question when her unspoken words were answered. There before them, was a small gap in the crowd. A gap big enough to see what was happening. 

It ought to have been a beautiful scene. Enchanting really. The gown she had created appeared otherworldly in the candlelight as Sigyn moved and twirled in Loki's arms. Y/N felt her breath catch when she saw him. The way he moved took her breath away and demanded her full attention. 

Faolán looked down and smiled at seeing her fascination. Yet there was a sadness in her eyes, one that could not be described with mere words. He saw how her eyes followed the couple. 

By all the stars he was beautiful. Her imagination had not done him justice. Her heart squeezed painfully as he spun Sigyn out and reeled her back in, holding her as close as he had held her. "In another life," she whispered. She wasn't strong enough, not as strong as she had imagined herself to be. 

Faolán looked to her in surprise at her whispered words. Her gaze remained fixed on the couple. Only now he realised that she wasn't watching _them_ at all. She was watching _him._

"I wish to go," she said softly, "I wish to go back."

"Are you certain?" Faolán whispered back. "You do not wish to see more?"

Y/N shook her head. "I can't," she murmured. "I can't."

"Very well."

Taking his offered arm as the music grew silent and the crowd applauded, she dared to glance over her shoulder.

When their eyes met, even for the briefest moment, the room fell away for her. There was surprise in his eyes and when he nodded ever so slightly, she returned the gesture, offering a small smile in return before slipping away.

Seeing her there rattled him. Loki had not expected to see her there, hidden behind the crowd. How long had she been standing there? How much had she seen? Her smile had trembled at the edges and he had seen the unmistakable shine of tears in her eyes.

How he longed to tell her that he did not see Sigyn in his arms, but her. That it was their union that was now being celebrated.

He would visit her that night. He longed for her, yearned for her. His beloved Y/N.

No sooner had they left the hall when her mask of composure collapsed and shattered around her. Stumbling, she held a hand to her heart and attempted to control her breathing as the tears broke free.

Though he did not quite understand what was happening, Faolán moved to shield her from any passersby. "What is it?" He asked softly, daring to reach out and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I believed myself to be stronger," she replied, standing up straight and turning to face him.

"Stronger? Why?"

"I knew it would hurt," she continued, "but I naively thought I would be able to bare it."

"What are you saying?" Faolán asked, confused.

"That sometimes I curse my heart for whom it has chosen."

Faolán stared at her. "The Prince?" He asked, voice soft with shock.

"There are those that believe I ought to be ashamed," Y/N was saying. "That I ought to hide it and beg forgiveness."

"And have you?"

She shook her head. "Nor will I ever."

"Does Her Highness know?"

"Why do you think I am here?" Y/N asked, looking up to meet his questioning gaze. "Why do you think I am not in exile as I was sentenced to be?"

Realisation crept over his features. Horror too.

Nodding in answer to his silent words, she smiled thinly. "I had better return before she is told I left."

"I will accompany you."

Stopping just before the chamber doors, Y/N turned to him. "I want to thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"For risking your station for me to see the celebrations," she explained. "You didn't have to do that and yet you did."

Faolán smiled. "It was my pleasure. And yet I feel terrible that you felt as you did."

"It wasn't your doing," Y/N replied. "My heart chose him and now I must live with the joys and pains that come from loving him."

"You are a brave woman. Not many can do what you have done and continue to do."

"I am not brave," she murmured, twisting her hands together. "I am foolish and maybe even a little rash in the decisions I make. Just ask my snake."

"It's true," Jörmungandr piped up, startling the guard. "She is a disaster at times. But most of the time? She is one of the most loyal people you will ever meet and will do anything for those she cares about, even to go so far as to put her own life on the line." 

"Yes," Faolán murmured in reply. "I do believe she is." 

With a murmured goodnight from both, they parted ways and Y/N settled herself to await her mistress.

It was close to midnight when the chamber doors finally opened to admit the Princess. She stumbled into the room and she was not alone. Casting her a look of apology was Loki. The Prince had one arm curled around his wife's waist and was baring most of her weight. 

Quickly approaching her mistress, Y/N gave him a quick smile before turning her full attention to the Princess. "The first thing you are going to let me do," she said gently, "is get you out of that gown. It is much too beautiful to soil. And then a bath I think. Cold."

With Sigyn mumbling incoherently, Y/N took one of her arms and draped it over her shoulder, her hand lightly brushing against Loki's as she did so. "I can take her from here," she said softly. 

Stumbling under the added weight, Y/N made her way to the bathing chamber. 

The moment she left the room, Loki sank down on one of the plush armchairs by the hearth. Perhaps he ought to have drunk a little more that evening, anything to dull the pain and longing in his heart. Anything to make her absence more bearable. While Sigyn had looked certainly very beautiful in that gown, he could not help but compare her to how Y/N looked in the very same garment. 

Sighing, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his parted knees. The fire in the hearth crackled heartily and warmed the room nicely. 

Soft movement from behind him caught his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as Y/N carried the gown over to where its designated mannequin waited. He watched as she carefully settled the gown over it, smoothing her hands along the fabric and nodding to herself once it sat in place.

He continued to watch as she padded over to the bed and leaned towards it, extending a hand and making Loki realise that it was Sigyn she was tending to. A rosy glow played at her fingertips before disappearing into Sigyn's forehead as words of healing whispered from her lips. 

_'Always so considerate,'_ the Prince thought to himself as Y/N drew away and smoothed her hair. _'Even to those that hate and deride you.'_

"Come Jorgi," she whispered, careful not to wake her sleeping mistress. "Let us go. Our presence is no longer required."  


She swept past him, her slippers making hardly a sound on the carpeted floors. Loki found himself frozen as she passed him by. Hidden in the shadows cast by the fire, she did not see him. It was the soft closing of the chamber doors that snapped him out of the trance he had fallen into. Rising from his seat, he made his way over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping form of his wife. 

Crouching down so his eyes were level with her closed ones, he reached out and gently swept a fallen strand of hair away from her eyes. All her harshness melted away while she slept, leaving her looking almost peaceful. 

Standing back up, he summoned a double that lay beside her. Without a second glance, he left their shared chambers behind. 

Settling Jörmungandr on his small nest of old clothing she had pilfered, Y/N set about preparing herself for sleep. Shedding her shoes, she sat on the edge of the bed and stretched, feeling her bones creak and groan. 

Standing, she made to change into her simple nightdress when a soft series of knocks interrupted her. Curious as to who her visitor would be, she abandoned her current task and went to see who stood on the other side of the door. 

"Sire?" She whispered upon seeing who it was. "What-" her words were soon hushed as he crashed their lips together. Groaning into the kiss, she reached up and tangled her fingers through his hair, pulling lightly on the strands, eliciting a soft moan from him. 

Moving forward, he walked her back into her room and closed the door behind them. The moment the door closed, his lips moved to her neck and suckled on the soft skin there. 

"I have missed you too," she breathed. "But shouldn't you be with your wife? It is your anniversary after all." 

Pausing in his ministrations, Loki looked up to meet her lidded gaze. "You are the one who ought to be my wife," he whispered and tenderly kissed her lips, so different from the all-consuming passion from mere moments before. 

"But I am not," Y/N replied, smiling sadly. Gently, so very gently, she carded her fingers through his hair and sighed as he nuzzled into her neck, placing soft kisses there. 

Slowly, he pulled them to her bed and sat on the edge, pulling her into his lap so she straddled him. Resting his head against her chest, he sighed and breathed her in, the heady and intoxicating scent of her. 

Kissing his crown, Y/N rested her chin atop his head and held him close. Her heart sung at their proximity. 

"I want you," he whispered, his breath fanning warmly over her chest. 

Y/N felt herself smile. "Oh my love," she sighed. "I want you too." 

Drawing back, he met her gaze, the intensity of them made her heart do things she was unfamiliar with. "I desire you. I long for you in ways I did not think possible." 

Her eyes widened slightly at his words. "Sire?"

"Why must you keep calling me that?" He asked, a strange look entering his eyes. "You know my name. I would much rather hear that word fall from your lips than my title." 

She nodded lightly, her smile returning. "Loki," she said softly and leaned forward, her lips brushing against his. 

"Do you even realise the power you possess upon me by only saying my name?" Loki whispered against her lips, his hands coming to rest on her hips. 

A shy smile played at the corners of her mouth. 

"Will you allow me to make love to you?" He asked, drawing slightly away to look up into her eyes. 

The look in her eyes could only be described as tender. Her heart was in her eyes. "Oh Loki," she murmured. Reaching up, she cupped his face with both hands. "You would want such a thing with _me?_ A lowly elven maid with nothing to her name and nothing to offer you save her heart, as broken and fragile as it may be?" 

"Then I am wealthier than any King," he replied. "You heart is as strong as you are and it is I who should be asking you that question."

"I would have you even if you were the lowliest peasant," she said and pressed a light kiss to his crown. "For it is your heart I want, not your position." 

"Take it," he said, kissing her wrists. "It is yours." 

Leaning down, she captured his lips with hers, her hands sliding up into his hair. 

Standing up, he devoured her lips with his as he lay her gently on the bed. Hovering above her, he reluctantly pulled away and spoke, panting lightly as he did. "I know you are pure," he whispered, looking into her eyes. "Untouched by any man or god. I ask you, my precious one, are you positive you want someone so broken to tarnish you?" 

When Y/N met his gaze, she saw his heart on full display, an offering to her, held out on trembling hands. Nodding, she smiled up at him. "I am broken too. Maybe we can learn how to fix one another? Let us become one, let our bodies touch each other and let our hearts and souls meld." 

Her words so tenderly and sincerely spoken drew tears to his eyes as he bent to kiss her once more. Slowly items of clothing became discarded as they explored each other, hands wondering over scarred flesh. 

Y/N paused as she saw an all-too familiar marking on his chest. One that was mirrored on her face. Lightly touching it, she traced it with trembling fingers. A lump formed in her throat as she recalled the Queen's words. "They branded you too?" She whispered. 

Solemnly, he nodded and as she traced his mark, he traced hers. "Indeed." 

"I will not ask why," she said softly. "Not unless you wish to tell me."

"I will," he replied, "but let us leave that for another time. Please." 

Nodding, she smiled before reconnecting their lips.

Their passion only grew and soon, as skin touched skin, they were one. Moving as one and connected as they were meant to be. Their hearts and souls joined. It was beautiful, the very air was alive with her magic entwined with his. 

Grasping at his arms and circling his waist with her legs to draw him deeper, Y/N flung her head back, only to moan as she felt his lips on her throat. "I love you," he rasped against her skin. "Please do not leave me," he begged, his pace increasing despite his speaking and soon he felt her shudder beneath and around him. "Your grip on my heart is so great I fear it would destroy me." 

"I will never leave you," she gasped, "I could never-" her words soon morphed into a moan as she felt her peak approach. Her fingers curled into him as she clutched at his back. 

They came together, shaking and trembling as they held each other close. 

As the night passed them by, they lay together, bodies entwined beneath threadbare sheets. Even as she fell asleep beside him, her head on his shoulder, Loki could not. If only it were within his power to freeze time. He would remain here forever, wrapped in her arms. 

With a feather-light touch, he traced the line of her jaw and the line of her nose before finally tracing the soft shape of her lips, lightly parted as she slept. "I wish never to go blind," he whispered. "So that I may always see your radiant beauty. I wish never to go deaf, so I might always hear your sweet voice. I wish to never become mute," pausing, he brushed a light kiss over her forehead and nuzzled in close. "So I can always tell you how much I love you."  


Lightly snuffling in her sleep, Y/N burrowed in further, her curled hands resting against his brand. Her scarred cheek pressed lightly to his shoulder. 

"Dream of me," were the last words he spoke before sleep claimed him and allowed him to rest in the safety of her arms. 


	40. Then there were two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was the finest arranged stardust I had ever stumbled across. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You just may wanna have those tissues ready, just sayi'n.......and if you're in public, I am so sorry....

"Your Majesty? Princess Sigyn wishes to speak with you."

Frigga looked up from her embroidery at her maid's words. To say she was surprised would have been an understatement. It had been a little under two months since the Princess had last directly spoken to her. At the time, she had not thought much on it. But now? Now she berated herself for not seeing what had been so obvious before. Sigyn had been hiding something, something big. Something that had frightened her enough to change the subject at the last minute.

"Allow her to enter," Frigga replied and set aside the length of peach-coloured silk. Dare she believe that the Princess had changed her mind? That she would at last reveal what had been troubling her before?

"Your Majesty," Sigyn's soft voice pulled the Queen from her thoughts.

With a soft smile, Frigga gestured for her to rise from her curtsy. "Rise my dear."

Accepting the Queen's silent offer of a seat, Sigyn smoothed her hands down the skirt of her gown before curling them lightly in her lap.

"My maid tells me you wish to speak with me?" Frigga asked, gesturing for the maid to fetch some tea. Sigyn's nerves were obvious and she felt a wave of sympathy for the woman.

"Indeed," Sigyn replied. "There is something rather important I must tell you."

"So I have surmised," Frigga said. "But before you do, tea? It is apparent that your news is taking its toll on your nerves."

Sigyn nodded silently, taken aback by the Queen's behaviour. While she had never been outright cold with her, this level of warmth was new. Accepting the delicate cup from the maid, she took a tentative sip.

"You needn't worry my dear," Frigga said, watching her over the rim of her own cup. "It is simply a tonic to soothe the nerves and to calm the mind."

Sigyn took another sip before resting the cup gently in her lap. Grateful for something for her trembling hands to hold onto, she cradled the cup. "I am afraid that my news is not of the pleasant sort," she said at last.

"I am sorry to hear it."

"Not as sorry as I am, Your Majesty, for having to to bare it."

Intrigued, Frigga set her cup aside and leaned slightly forward. "What is it?" She asked kindly.

Taking a deep breath and another, larger sip of the tea, Sigyn mustered what courage she had. "I knew what was to be expected of me since the day I was born. That I would, one day, be married and it would be my duty to give my husband heirs."

"Indeed," Frigga murmured, nodding gravely. "It is the fate of all women, commoner and royalty alike I'm afraid."

"But you see, Your Majesty, that is where I find myself lacking."

The Queen was silent as the words hung between them. She looked to the Princess and for the first time since she had met her, the woman appeared almost nervous and somewhat afraid.

"How so?" Frigga asked softly. She needed to know for sure, she needed Sigyn to blatantly tell her.

Shame coloured her cheeks as she ducked her head to hide it. Sigyn was sure she could not bare the look in the Queen's eyes. "I am unable to bare children," she whispered, her heart hammering within her. "The healers of home have long since searched for a cure, but none has been found."

In truth, Frigga did not know what to say. It was true that she held no particular fondness for this woman, but this news forced her to push her dislike aside. It was a plight and a curse for those who bore it, especially for one such as Sigyn. Her heart went out to the young woman, her pain unimaginable. But there was something, one more thing she had to know. "Does Loki know?"

Sigyn looked up and met the Queen's gaze. Her silence was her answer and Frigga sighed. "Why have you waited so long to tell me?" She asked. "It cannot be easy for you to speak of, but to carry the weight of such news alone? He must hear it from you and no one else. It will be better that way."

"My brother said much the same," Sigyn murmured. "But instinct drove me to you."

"And now it must drive you to your husband," Frigga replied. "Trust me when I say this my child, when the rumours start, it will be most difficult to quell them. Muster your courage, Loki has always valued honesty above all the other virtues. Despite his reputation."

Sigyn nodded wordlessly.

Reaching out, Frigga lay her hands gently atop Sigyn's and smiled. "I thank you for coming here and imparting this news, difficult though it may be. Go to him, my dear. Tell him and together I am sure you will figure a solution."

With those words, both women rose and one departed.

Frigga stared after her as she left and stood for a moment before sitting back down and resuming her embroidery. Sigyn's news startled her, for this put both her and Loki in a very difficult position. Should the rest of Asgard find out, the results would be unimaginable.

Focusing on the fabric in her lap, the Queen soon found herself smiling. Not out of malice or joy over Sigyn's misfortune. Oh no. She was sure that she had never seen him so distracted as he had appeared at breakfast that morning. More than once, she had been tempted to delve into his mind to find the cause of his distraction, but she was sure she already knew. It was unlikely he would tell her, least of all in the presence of Odin and Thor.

There was always the midday meal, which was fast approaching.

~ ~ ~

"I have a favour to ask of you."

Faolán looked down at her question and was surprised to find Y/N standing beside him, a basket of bed linens in her arms. That snake of hers had made himself visible and was blepping playfully at him. "Do you now?"

She nodded. "It is of a sensitive nature, but I believe you are the best one to ask."

His eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

Taking a breath that seemed to tremble as she breathed out again, Y/N swallowed hard. "I wish to see my village, my home to be precise."

Faolán stared at her in blatant shock before a wave of sympathy washed over him. "Are you sure?" He asked softly. "I have seen it and it haunts me to this day what they did to your family."

Y/N nodded. "I need to see it," she whispered. "Being told is one thing, seeing it will be another. It will make it real."

"But why would you wish for it to be real?"

"Because," she replied, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "I need the closure. When I was told, I didn't want to believe it, but my heart told me it was true."

"Is that not enough?" Faolán asked desperately. "It is a truly harrowing sight."

"I need this," she affirmed and looked him in the eye. "My heart needs this closure and my mind needs to stop trying to convince me that they're still alive." Pausing, she smiled sadly. "I want to say goodbye."

"Very well," he replied softly. "Meet me by the stables in an hour." He watched her as she left him to complete her task in the time he had given her. As much as he despised it, he understood her reasons and who was he to deny her a farewell? She had been exiled without the chance to do so. He prayed she would be able to leave the palace without causing too much of a disturbance.

The hour passed by quickly and soon he was standing beside a saddled and bridled Tallagor. Light quick footsteps alerted him to the approach of another and he breathed a sigh of relief when Y/N came into view. A hood covered her hair and brand.

Her eyes lit up upon seeing the horse. With a stifled exclamation of joy, she threw her arms around the stallion's neck, burying her face deep.

"Time is of the essence," Faolán whispered, hating to have to break the reunion. "If we are to go, then let us do so now."

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Y/N nodded. Both knew that the midday meal for the Royal family only lasted for an hour or two and that there would be hel to pay should Sigyn discover her absence.

Mounting up first, Y/N silently allowed Faolán to take the reins as he settled behind her.

Making sure to pull the hood securely around her face with a small enchantment, Y/N held the pommel of the saddle as Tallagor broke into a canter, taking them far from the palace. Maintaining a swift pace, he took them far across fields and through the forest that surrounded Y/N's village, stopping for a moment as the settlement came into view.

Looking up at the pause, Y/N gasped softly at the sight that greeted her. Nothing had changed, everything looked the same. Yet it wasn't. There was one stark difference. Even from her vantage point, she could see it, the gap where her home once was. A gaping wound that would never heal. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she nodded, signalling to Faolán to allow Tallagor to continue.

"We can still turn back," the guard murmured, "you don't have to do this."

Stubbornly she shook her head as Tallagor began to walk. "I do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The villagers openly stared at her as they entered and whispered amongst themselves. She could not have cared less, her attention was on one thing and one thing only. Already she could feel her tight control slipping.

She was sure she had forgotten how to breathe by the time Tallagor stopped. Numbly she slid from the saddle, staring with wide eyes at the remains of her home. She had been born there, as had Vídarr. The smell of smoke still hung in the air, even after so many months. On trembling legs, she made her way forward, one hand outstretched. The moment her fingers touched what remained of the door post, she whimpered, the first tear slipping free.

Stepping into the ruins, she looked around, her vision soon distorting with tears. Her heart ached within her, bleeding as she wept silently. She had been told that her mother was pregnant with Vídarr when their father was building the house with the help of the village carpenter. Her jaw quivered as her movements stirred up the ash, causing it to cling to her slippers and gown as she moved along.

It was when she caught sight of three figures that her control slipped and vanished completely. With a choked sob, she stumbled forward, falling to her knees beneath them, tear-filled eyes directed up. "Mama?" She whimpered, looking to the figure in the middle. Her hand shook violently as she reached up, a small cry breaking free as she touched her mother's bare foot. "Grandmama?" She said in a small, broken voice, her heart cracking within her. "Vídarr? Brother-" she broke off, collapsing with a heartwrenching cry of agony as she clutched her chest, clawing at her heart as though to tear it out.

In turn, her seidr flared out. Lashing out in the most violent way it ever had, it reacted to her grief and heartbreak. All those in the village felt it, everyone in Asgard did. It shuddered through the realm and caused the shield to tremble for but a moment, but enough to capture the attention of many.

Daring to set foot in the ruins, Faolán approached her and knelt beside her.

Lifting her head, Y/N looked at him. When she spoke, her voice was rough, weighed down with unimaginable pain. "Will you be my brother?"

"I cannot replace Vídarr," he whispered emotionally, shaking his head. "I cannot."

"I am not asking you to," she replied and clutched one of his hands in both of hers. "I am asking you to be my brother."

In that moment, Faolán realised what she spoke of. What she was requesting. Without second thought, he pulled her into a tight embrace, a gesture she immediately returned. "We have lost those bound to us by blood," he said softly, stirring her hair with his breath. "But we have found each other. And we will stand by each other, protect and love each other. What was taken from us, we have found in another way. Side-by-side we will remain until we meet our loved ones again in the life beyond this one."

Y/N nodded against him, her tears soaking into his cloak.

"Come sister," he said softly. "Let us return you to the palace and pray that none have noticed our absence."

~ ~ ~

It was a quiet, intimate affair. The Royal family only.

While Thor spoke in hushed tones with his father and Loki spoke with his wife, Frigga watched them all. A small smile played with her lips as her gaze landed on her youngest. To anyone else, it might have appeared that Loki was truly invested in what he was speaking of. This distracted state-of-mind had only grown over the past months and as before, Frigga suspected she knew why.

Taking a delicate sip of her wine, she looked away just as Loki looked in her direction. She felt his gaze on her before it was once again diverted.

_"I need to speak with you."_

It had been an age since he and Frigga had communicated this way. With the mind so that none but them could hear their words. Loki looked to his mother, surprise making a brief appearance in his eyes before it disappeared.

 _"What about?"_ He asked, choosing to focus on the remaining food before him.

His mother's soft laughter echoed in his mind. _"Not here. After the meal, walk with me."_

Looking to the Queen, he nodded and received a small, knowing smile in return.

From that moment, the rest of the luncheon seemed to drag and it felt like hours instead of minutes until the servants finally came to clear the table. Taking the sign for what it was, Loki rose and offered an arm to Sigyn. "I am afraid I am unable to accompany you to the gardens today my dear," he said, lightly kissing her cheek. "There is something I must discuss with my mother, I will find you soon."

Nodding in acceptance of his words, Sigyn swept from the room, Thor and Odin following close behind.

True to his word, he waited patiently for the Queen and greeted her with a smile. "Mother."

Looping her arm through his, Frigga smirked. "Let us walk."

And walk they did.

"When will you tell me the reason for all this?" Loki asked at last as they entered the Queen's gardens. "Why all the secrecy? We have not spoken like that in years."

"Oh aye," she agreed, letting go of his arm to attend to a nearby flower bush. Sighing, she turned to face him. "I saw it, your reaction."

"My reaction?"

The Queen nodded. "We all felt it, a wave of something no one could name. The very air was alive with it. But you," she paused, a strange look entering her grey eyes. "Your reaction spoke of something else entirely. Something deeper. Am I right?"

Loki did not answer right away. It was true, what his mother said. The pain had started in his palm, right by the mark. But then, oh then, it had gone straight for his heart. It had taken everything to remain impassive. "Yes," he admitted softly.

"Only one person could affect the shield to that degree," Frigga said, coming to stand before him. "The one who helped to restore it."

He nodded wordlessly but held his mother's gaze.

"Do you know what caused such a reaction from her?" She asked.

Yes, he knew. He had heard her cries, soft and filled with soul-crushing sorrow. The very sound had torn at his heart and he loathed that he was not there with her. "She visited her home," he whispered. "She saw everything."

"But did you not tell her?"

"I did," he replied. "And I fervently prayed that my words were enough. But it seems that I was wrong." Pausing, he closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. "By the Norns," he gasped softly, but no less emotionally. "I felt it. I felt it all. Her pain, her grief. As though it were my own. I should have been there with her."

"Oh my darling boy," Frigga murmured and cupped his face with both hands and smiled sadly. "We cannot blame ourselves for the decisions others make. We cannot know the future, even with my gift of foresight, I am only shown possible outcomes."

"She has little in the way of friends, it is wrong for her to have to bear this alone."

"She is not alone," Frigga said, her smile becoming lighter. "She has you, does she not?"

"Not in the way you think, mother," Loki protested, not meaning a word.

She saw right through him and her smile became a grin and her eyes sparkled. "Am I right in surmising that she is the cause of your distracted mind these past two months? Or will I have to delve into that mind of yours?"

"You promised you would never do that."

"Oh aye," Frigga agreed. "Under the condition that you would always be honest with me."

"And have I not?"

"Up until now," she replied, taking yet another step closer. "Tell me," she said, her tone softening and a tender look dulling the mischief. "Do you regret it?"

Forgetting his earlier protest, Loki shook his head. "Never," he replied softly. "For how could I? In the eyes of the law, it was wrong. But when I saw her there, pure and untouched, I knew that the law was not written by those who knew love. For had it been, she would be my wife and bear the title so rightly owed."

"Look at you," Frigga murmured fondly. "Who knew you were such a romantic?"

"I am no such thing," he said, scoffing and making his mother laugh.

"Whatever you say, my darling," she said, chuckling. "Whatever you say."

~ ~ ~

Slipping back into the palace was deceptively easy.

Hiding them both under an illusion, Y/N breathed a sigh of relief when she unveiled them and neither of their superiors descended upon them in a rage. "I had best head to Her Highness's chambers," she whispered, looking over her shoulder.

"Right on," Faolán agreed, nodding. "I will return to my post for the remainder of the day."

"A solid plan," Y/N replied. "Until later then I suppose? If neither of our absences were discovered that is."

"Indeed."

"See you later then, _brother,"_ she said, smiling softly.

"That you shall," Faolán replied. " _Sister."_

Laughing softly, she turned on her heels and swiftly made her way to Sigyn's chambers, praying she would not be there.

She never made it. For she was a short distance from the wing when an older woman, one she recognised as being a maid to the Queen, approached her. "Her Majesty wishes to speak with you."

Y/N felt all the blood leave her head and fear froze the blood in her veins. Had her absence been noticed after all? Had Sigyn finally had enough? With forced and stiff movements, she followed the older woman towards the Queen's chambers.

"Go on," the maid said kindly as she held the door open. "She is waiting for you."

Her heart thundered in her ears and she was sure everyone would be able to hear it. Swallowing audibly, she nodded and mustered up her courage before crossing over the threshold.

The last time she had spoken with the Queen, she had been a free woman. Now she was anything but.

"There you are," a soft voice said to her, pulling back to the present.

Seeing that it was the Queen who had spoken, Y/N dropped into a low curtsy and kept her eyes to the floor and rather opulent carpeting.

"It is quite alright my child," Frigga said, "you can look up, there is no one here but us."

Not daring to disobey, she looked up and was met with a soft, kind smile from the Queen herself.

"There, much better," Frigga said and gestured to a nearby armchair. "Please, sit."

Y/N could not help but stare. The _Queen_ was asking _her_ to sit? Such a thing was unheard of. "Your Majesty, I couldn't possibly-"

"Yes, you can," Frigga gently interrupted her. "And you will."

The chair did look rather inviting. Arguing with herself that she was merely obeying an order, she sat down opposite the Queen. "Majesty," she murmured.

"Now," Frigga said, settling herself and looking at the maid. Her earlier conversation with Loki came to mind, causing a smile to spring up. "There is a rather important matter I must discuss with you. One I was not all that sure of until now."

To say she wasn't curious would be to tell an outright lie. "Majesty?" She asked, what matter could a Queen possibly deem worthy enough to discuss with a thrall?

"Though I am surprised you have not been aware of this sooner," Frigga replied thoughtfully.

Y/N said nothing. Though her confusion must have shown on her face quite clearly.

"I shall speak plainly," Frigga said. "I know of the affection my son holds for you," in her pause she saw the maid's eyes soften at the mere mention of Loki. Her heart smiled. "As you are well aware. I do indeed hope that you recall our last conversation?"

Y/N nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Excellent. Now, to the matter at hand. I am indeed surprised that you have not been made aware of the changes occurring in your life at present?"

"Changes Your Majesty?" Y/N asked, both confused and fearful.

"There is no need to be scared, child. I simply wish to say that, since the relations between you and my son have reached a physical level," she paused as a rosy blush stained the maid's cheeks. "There is no need to be embarrassed my dear, he certainly wasn't. I have never seen him like this, happy and very distracted."

Y/N was sure her face was on fire. Loki had told her?

"Calm yourself my dear," Frigga reassured her. "For it is not that I wish to discuss."

"Then what, Your Majesty?"

"Quite simply," Frigga replied and fought to keep from smiling. "The fact that you now carry a part of him inside you."

Y/N furrowed her brow. "I'm sorry Your Majesty, I do not believe I take your meaning."

Reaching out, Frigga took both Y/N's hands in her own and squeezed them gently. "You are different to the Princess in every way," she murmured. "But no more so in that where she is barren, you are fertile."

"Majesty?" Y/N breathed, shocked. Her mind was going in some very dangerous directions.

"Yes my dear," Frigga replied. "You are with child. And not one, but two new lives now reside within your womb."

Y/N stared at the Queen. "I am pregnant?" She whispered and looked down at her stomach before looking back to the Queen. "Truly?"

Frigga laughed softly and nodded. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Norse Mythology Frigga is the goddess of fertility and motherhood (you guys probably already knew that...😜)


	41. Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love is not rational. It's madness. A beautiful, wonderful, moment of magnificent insanity. 
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

"What have you got there?"

Unfolding the paper, Y/N grinned upon recognising the hand in which it was written. "A note," she replied.

"Who from?" Faolán asked, looking over her shoulder, "although I can probably guess."

Quickly folding the note, she glared up at him, though a smirk soon ruined it. "It is rude to read other people's correspondence."

"Aye," he agreed, "that it might be. But I am still curious."

"And you shall remain so," Y/N quipped, making to tuck the note safely away. "Because- hey!"

Laughing, Faolán snatched the note from her grasping hands and held it well above her head as he made a show of reading it. "Aha!" He announced triumphantly. "I was right."

"Congratulations," she growled, making a grab for the paper. "Now give it back."

"Not so fast dear sister," he laughed, dancing out of her reach.

"My patience is wearing thin," she warned, narrowing her eyes. "Now give it back before anyone sees."

"Oh very well," he sighed and lowered his arm for her to take the note back.

Smoothing the parchment, she tucked it safely into the pocket of her apron. "Thank you."

"And for your information," Faolán said, "I did not read it, only his name. I know not what he wrote to you about."

"I appreciate that," Y/N replied, smiling up at him. "Really, I do."

"Am I forgiven then?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Giggling, she nodded. "But only just," she said, grinning. "Only just."

"I enjoy hearing you laugh," Faolán said suddenly, smiling sadly. "It means you are happy and you deserve to be so."

"There are very few things that can make me laugh," she replied, her tone sombre. "But I appreciate each and every single one of them."

"I think I can guess what one of them is."

Feeling a blush come on, she ducked her head, playfully swatting his arm. "You mustn't say such things," she said, not meaning a word.

"It saddens me that you cannot be open with what gives you such joy. With what completes you."

"Not a what," she whispered, smiling faintly and rested a hand atop her stomach. "But a who."

"I know," Faolán murmured.

Unknown to both and hidden beneath a cloaking spell, Loki watched them. A faint jealousy had sprung up on seeing her smile and laugh with another man. A jealousy and a hurt that soon faded as he realised what they meant to each other. It warmed his heart to know she had at least one other person by her side, one that would protect her and be with her when he could not.

His keen eyes did not miss how her hand had moved to where it now rested. Beautiful yet dangerous thoughts filled his mind. The distant look in her eyes spoke of something she had not yet told him.

Breaking away from his place of concealment, the Prince turned away from them, the sounds of their conversation soon growing quiet the further he moved from them.

Sigyn was expecting him, a rather urgent matter required his presence, or so she had said.

The moment he stepped into their shared chambers, the very air was heavy with the weight of the unspoken matter.

"Sigyn?" He called softly.

"In here," came her reply from before the hearth.

Upon seeing his wife, Loki went in and settled himself beside her. "Your message sounded rather urgent," he said. "What is it? Has something happened?"

Sigyn shook her head and for a moment, looked to her folded hands in her lap before meeting his gaze. "No," she whispered. "Nothing has happened."

"Then what is it?"

"There is something I must tell you," she replied and took a deep breath. "Something I ought to have told you some time ago."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And just what might this be?"

"Please understand," she began, "that I had no control over this, nor do I have any in the present."

"Sigyn please," he said softly but firmly. "Please tell me."

"I will endeavor to do so," she said. "As much as I am able."

Silently, he urged her to continue.

"Very well," she said, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

It was not an hour later that the Prince emerged from his chambers. His pale complexion was even whiter. His wife's news ought to have left him feeling at least _something._ But he felt nothing. Nothing at all. A void had formed inside of him in receipt of her news. While her honesty pleased him, it also confused him. In the two years of their marriage, how had it taken her so long to speak of this? His mother knew, Sigyn had told him as much. Did Thor? Did Odin?

Making his way through the palace, he watched and looked on in silence as the servants readied the palace for the upcoming celebration of the Spring Equinox. All of Asgard celebrated it, the celebrations lasting long into the early hours of the morning.

A time of renewal and paying homage to life as the realm welcomed the warmer months. The gardens blossomed with new life and the palace bore garlands heavy with fresh blooms and young buds.

There was but one who could make this right and he had not seen her since her conversation with the guard. Would she come that evening? He found that he needed her company now more than ever.

A small smile graced his features as he imagined what she would look like, attired in the gown he had selected for her. It would be gifted to her, found by her as she retired for the evening. Though not as beautiful as the one she had created, he hoped she would accept it.

Until then, he would keep busy, occupy his mind to numb the pain of being denied yet again. The great joy of fatherhood would never be his, as Thor would father a whole litter of heirs, he would remain childless. Yet another mark against his name. For the first time, Sigyn's pain was his and the disappointment of the Allfather would fall heavily on them both.

"Will you go?" Jörmungandr asked as Y/N entered the servant's wing that evening. The celebrations were in full swing and she was given the evening off. A rarity she knew not what to do with. 

The look in her eyes was answer enough and the snake sighed, settling his head in the dip of her collar. "Will you tell him, about, well, you know?" 

She nodded, smiling as both hands crept to her middle. "Of course I will," she replied softly, the look in her eyes becoming one of bliss. "He deserves to know." 

"You had best hope the witch doesn't find out," Jörmungandr muttered. "I dread to think of what she'll do." 

At his words, her smile fell. A strange, powerful fear took hold of her heart and squeezed it tight. "She won't," she replied, setting her jaw. "She will never know." 

"How? What will you do once the children are born?" 

"That is seven months away," she muttered in reply. "Until then, illusions will hide them from prying eyes."

Jörmungandr shook his head. She was in denial of the very real danger that faced not only her, but her unborn children too. That, or she was simply choosing to handle this the only way she knew how.  


He remained silent as they approached her room. Most of the serving and chamber staff were partaking in the celebrations, thus leaving the wing deserted and quiet. 

Upon opening her door, she gasped. For there, on her simple, threadbare bed, lay one of the most beautiful and elegant gowns she had ever seen. Quickly closing the door behind her, she approached the bed. Her finger ran gently over the silken fabric. There was no denying who it was from. A small rectangle bearing her name lay beside the dress. 

_"To my love and my heart,_

_This gown is for you. I humbly ask you to wear this garment in honour of the realm-wide celebrations. You once believed that you would never wear such finery, then tell me my darling and precious one, what else is a Queen to wear?_

_I shall await your presence in the Jasmine maze should you deem it right to come._

_Forever yours,_

_Loki "_

"He certainly has a way with words," Jörmungandr murmured, eyes flicking over the note Y/N held. Looking up, he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. 

"Yes," she whispered, swiping at her eyes. "Yes, he does." With but the smallest movement of her hand, she was attired in the gifted gown. 

"He has an eye for fashion, that is for sure."

Rolling her eyes and laughing softly, Y/N set about arranging her hair to appear presentable. "Do you believe I ought to cloak myself?" She asked as she slipped on the provided golden slippers. "Just in case."

"I think so," Jörmungandr agreed. "It is better to be safe than sorry." 

Nodding, she cast a simple concealment spell. "Would you mind terribly if you were to remain here until I come back?" 

"Planning some mischief are we?" He asked, grinning. 

Blushing lightly, she shook her head. "No no," she murmured.

"You simply wish for some alone time?" He said kindly. "It is alright, I understand."

"You are a darling," she replied and bent to kiss his scaly head where he rested at the foot of her bed. "I promise I shall return soon."

"You will do no such thing," he said, surprising her. "You are not to hurry back. If you want me to stay here, then I want you to enjoy this evening. You deserve some revelry, now go, you do not want to keep him waiting." 

Giggling softly, she left the room, slipping into the corridor beyond. She had been to the Jasmine maze only a handful of times and she prayed she would remember the way. 

The moon hung high in the sky and cast the maze in a soft silvery light. Already the scent of Jasmine drifted through the air and not all of it was in bloom. Movement from behind him had Loki turn around.

As she stood there, smiling shyly as their eyes met, she appeared as more a goddess than those he met at court. The gown's light fabric floated around her as she moved to step toward him, the light evening breeze playing with the material.

In answer, he extended a hand and smiled in encouragement. "You came," he said softly.

"How could I not?" She replied in the same tone. Her hand curled around his as he led her into the centre of the maze where a small fountain bubbled. "You seem troubled my love," she said as he moved to sit at the fountain's edge, her hand still in his. "What has happened?"

He shook his head and when he looked up at her, she gasped softly at the unshed tears in his emerald eyes. Moving closer, she wrapped her arms 'round him, his head resting against her silk clad breasts. "What is it?" She whispered, heart clenching as his grip on her tightened and she felt something damp land on her chest. "Will you not tell me?" She asked, a note of pleading in her voice. "I do not like seeing you suffer so."

Lifting his head, he met her gaze. Gently, she swiped the tears away and patiently waited for him to speak. "I have learnt today," he whispered, his voice lightly hoarse with emotion. "That I will never be a father, as Sigyn cannot bear children."

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she drew him close, his head above her heart. "Oh my darling," she whispered, a tear of her own tracing down her cheek. They remained like that for a good while before she spoke again, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "There is something I must tell you," she said, continuing to whisper. "Something that I fervently hope will make you smile once more."

Intrigued, Loki looked up at her and found her to be smiling, albeit shyly. "What is it?"

"Give me your hand," she said and taking his offered one, laid it against her stomach. "Do you see?" She asked hopefully. "Does your seidr not feel it? Feel them?"

His eyes widened as he took in the meaning of her words. "You," he whispered, awestruck, "you are with child?"

"Yes," she nodded, her heart leaping as his hand pressed a fraction firmer. "Your children."

"Children?"

Her smile widened. "Twins."

The Prince fell to his knees before her and gazed up at her as a blind man would upon seeing the sun for the first time. "My love, it is I who falls to his knees before you, for this gift you carry within you." Reaching up, he took her hands in his and kissed them both. "I will forever be in awe of this blessing we have created together."

Smiling through her tears, Y/N sank to her knees. "You are not angry then?"

Loki shook his head. "How could I be?" He asked, standing and pulling her with him. "You have managed to melt the ice of my heart, you have loved me and taught me what it means to love another. You have made me go against my very nature, but to see you bear our beautiful children, I know I would never change my decision. Our children will have your eyes."

Her tears were flowing steadily now, even as she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Even as he lifted her and spun them both, eliciting a burst of laughter from her, a sound that echoed up into the night sky.

The moment was perfect and as they danced beneath the star strewn sky, Asgard faded away. Sigyn faded away. It was perfect, but not so for their silent observer. Y/N's laughter had attracted the attention of none other than Hogun. Silently he watched, perplexed to see the Prince there when he had seen him with his wife in the great hall not moments before.

What had been a suspicion before, was reality now. There was only thing to do. She had been a nuisance before, now, she was a threat. Turning away from the unsuspecting couple, the Vanir warrior made his decision. Her Highness had to be told.


	42. Fool's Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night I had a dream that felt like a memory. A glimpse of what could have been. Crossed signals from another life. 
> 
> Where instead of all this, I had you. 
> 
> And life was exquisitely simple. And we were desperately happy. 
> 
> ~ Lang Leav (I Had You)

The days that passed turned into weeks and with each one, the children grew within her. As did her fear that one day Sigyn would know, by some infernal means. Often she found herself curling her arms around her lightly protruding stomach. Though hidden beneath careful illusions, she appeared as she always had.

The fear she often felt was driven away by the memory of Loki telling her the names he had selected for their children. The care and thought behind his decisions brought tears to her eyes and a smile to her lips. She agreed with his choices wholeheartedly and repeated them softly to herself as she worked. "Vídarr, for the boy," she murmured, Jörmungandr hearing everything and making sure that they were alone. "Ayla-Seren for the girl." 

It had not been long after her revelation to Loki that the Queen had seen fit to tell her that one child was a boy and the other, a girl.

An announcement from the Princess was said to happen at the evening feast and Sigyn had requested the most beautiful of her gowns to be readied. The golden fabric shimmered under the lights and made one think it was fashioned from the precious metal itself. 

"Nothing really flaunts wealth like a gold dress," Jörmungandr muttered from his place on the vanity. "I mean, really?" 

"I am sure she has her reasons." 

"Such as?" The snake asked as though genuinely interested.

Y/N shrugged and settled the dress over the appropriate mannequin. "How should I know? My mind works differently to hers." 

"Something I am right glad of, if I may say so," Jörmungandr replied. 

Laughing softly, she stepped back and inspected her work, one hand automatically going to the hidden swell of her stomach and rubbed small soothing circles. Canting her head to the side, she sighed. "She's going to need a small army to get ready. One I fervently hope not to be a part of." 

When Jörmungandr didn't fire back a remark, she turned to him and saw him nod to the closed chamber door. A smile bloomed on her features as she saw the reason for Jörmungandr's silence. "Just how long have you been watching me?" She asked, her smile softening as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, tenderly kissing her cheek. 

"Not nearly long enough," he replied and lay his hands atop her own. "I heard you say their names," he said in a softer tone and smiled at her through the mirror. 

"How could I not?" She murmured and leaned back against him, relishing this moment, stolen though it may be. "They are beautiful names. Chosen with love and consideration by their father."

"Say that word again," he whispered. "Please."

Turning her face to the side, she nuzzled his neck. "Father," she repeated and smiled. "And what a wonderful one you will be."

"How can you know such a thing?" 

"Call it faith," Y/N replied and met his gaze as he looked down to her.

"Faith," he echoed softly.

She nodded and settled against him once more. "I know that you love them as fiercely as I do," she said. "But we must not pretend that this will be easy. They are not yet born, yet they carry targets on their back. I fear what will happen should she find out."

"She won't."

At this, she turned in his arms and looked up at him. "She will," she protested, "one day, somehow, she will, and I fear for the children when that day comes. Norns know what she will do."

"Hush my love," Loki soothed, gently holding her face with both hands. "Your fear is real, as is mine. So I swear to you, here and now, that I will give my life if need be, to protect you and our children. I promise you this. One day I will take you away from here, to a place where no one knows who we are."

Y/N looked back at him as her vision distorted with tears and as she blinked, they were released. "Our children need their father," she whimpered. "I need you."

"Oh my darling," he murmured, touching their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "My heart and soul."

They stayed like that, simply holding each other, for a long while. Jörmungandr watched over them and sighed inwardly. They made for a tranquil picture, a picture that was soon shattered by the weight of reality. 

The Prince departed first, but not before tenderly kissing her on the lips and smiling softly at the unborn twins. 

Y/N let out a stuttering sigh and looked to the snake. 

"What is it?" He asked gently. 

"There is one other person that must be told," she replied. 

"If this is who I think it is," Jörmungandr said, "then you are going to have to be extra careful that no one hears you." 

"Then we had better hurry." With that, she collected the serpent from the bed and swept from the room. 

"Remind me again," Jörmungandr piped up as they went in search of one guard in particular. "Why exactly should he know?" 

"Because he is my brother," Y/N said simply and smiled in triumph at spotting the man in question. 

At her approach, Faolán looked up and grinned. "Afternoon," he greeted. 

She smiled in response and nodded lightly. 

"By now you'd usually be chattering my ear off with the events of the day," he observed and folded his arms. "Has something happened?" 

Casting a glance over her shoulder before focusing on him once more, she nodded. "You could say that." 

"You are worrying me," Faolán told her, noticing the nervous wring of her hands. "Has the Princess done something?" 

Y/N shook her head. "No," she replied and in a softer tone, she said, "I need to show you something, but not here." 

With narrowed eyes, he watched her closely as she led him into an alcove that was hidden from the main corridor. "What did you want to show me..." his question trailed into silence as she dropped the illusion and cradled her stomach. His eyes widened as he stared at her. "You-? How far along?" 

She nodded. "Yes, and four months." 

"Dare I ask who the father is?" He asked from behind clenched teeth. 

"I think you already know," she whispered and looked down to where her hands rested. Her eyes widened briefly in surprise when two arms circled her and drew her close to a chest. Realising what was happening, she sank into the embrace. "Are you angry with me?" She asked in a small voice. 

"I would like to be," Faolán replied from above her. "I should be. But anger will not serve either of us now. It will do us no good when we cannot undo what has been done and besides," he paused and rested his chin atop her head. "It would be unfair of me to be angry at my niece or nephew." 

Y/N smiled widely at his words and felt warmth bloom in her heart. "Both," she replied and grinned up at him. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Twins," she said, smirking at his shocked expression. "A boy and a girl." 

"Goodness," he breathed. "Does he know?" 

"Of course he does," she said, "he was the first one I told."

"And?" 

"He was very happy," she said softly, eyes going soft with the memory of that night. "He even told me the names he believed would suit them best." 

"Did he now?"

"Indeed."

"And what are they? Do you like them too?"

Y/N nodded and bit her lip. "They are perfect."

"Well, do not keep me in suspense," Faolán said, raising an expectant eyebrow. "What are they?"

"For the girl, Ayla-Seren," she replied softly. "The first is his nickname for me and the second was the name I called myself when we first met."

"And the boy?" He asked in the same tone as hers.

Her eyes shone like stars when they met his and her smile trembled at the edges. "Vídarr. After my brother, the person he says brought us together."

Faolán gasped softly and met her smile with one of his own. "As you said," he whispered emotionally. "Perfect."

"I am scared though," she admitted, curling against him.

"I am not surprised," he replied and curled an arm around her. "This is a big change for you both."

"Not me," she whispered. "I fear for the children and what Sigyn will do once she finds out. I am scared she will try to take them from me-" her voice trembled dangerously as she spoke.

"No one will take them from you," he swore, "not if I have anything say about it."

"If only it were that simple," she murmured. "But as much as I loath to admit it, Sigyn is very powerful, resourceful too."

"Your children will be born in safety," Faolán assured her and tucked her close. "They will be surrounded by those who love them. Their mother, their uncle and Norns willing, their father too."

Y/N hummed, the sound vibrating at the back of her throat.

~ ~ ~

The palace was abuzz as the kitchens churned out all kinds of delicacies and the serving staff hurried to prepare the grand hall. No one as yet knew the nature of the announcement, only the importance of it.

The ladies of the court dressed in their finest and Sigyn was determined to outshine them all. Arrayed in her golden gown and with Loki beside her, his emerald green cloak flowing out behind him as he walked next to her, she lifted her chin and smiled. The King and Queen entered first, as was custom and Thor a few steps behind them.

The crowd bowed respectfully as the Royal family passed them by and made their way to the raised dais. When the crowd settled and Frigga and Odin sat down, Sigyn remained standing, drawing a confused look from her husband.

Moving away from the long table and standing before the crowd, the Princess began to speak, the great hall was quieter than a cemetery. "Lords and Ladies, I bid you all good evening. I know there has been much discussion as to the reason for this rather opulent feast. We are not strangers to celebrations, and so I feel it only appropriate that this news of mine be heralded and greeted in such a manner. My fervent hope is that this news will bring you as much joy as it has brought my husband and I."

Loki narrowed his eyes at his wife's words and glanced at his mother who was watching the Princess rather closely.

"Now," Sigyn continued and smiled widely. "Without further ado, I wish to announce that my husband, the Prince, and I are expecting."

The realm fell away at her words and Loki openly stared at her. What was she playing at? Had she not told him two months ago that her womb was barren? Around him the room erupted into applause and loud cheers for the couple. He was only faintly aware of Thor clapping him on the back in hearty congratulations.

With a raised hand, Sigyn silenced the crowd and turned to her husband. Her smile, to anyone else, would have appeared as filled to the brim with joy. But it was not joy that curved her lips so and Loki felt fear grip his heart in a tight, ice cold grip. It was victory. Her next words floated to him as though through a haze. "Twins. A boy and a girl."

No forced smile was shown to the cheering crowd as he looked to his mother, only to find her already looking his way. The fear and dread he felt was mirrored in the Queen's eyes.

"My congratulations sister," Thor said as Sigyn seated herself beside her husband. "How long have you and my brother been keeping this to yourselves?"

She didn't miss a beat and rested a light hand on her husband's thigh. "Four months."


	43. Dreams of another world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is by nature fragile. That's what makes true love so powerful. It is that you've made a fragile thing, unbreakable. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

Faolán could not keep himself from smiling. The news he bore would surely set her mind at ease.

The gardens he passed in his search for her were in full bloom. Spring had truly arrived. The sun was gentle that day, though it was growing stronger everyday. It was in the peony garden that he found her. A basket filled with roses and cut ferns lay at her feet as she bent close to a peony bush. It was laden with peach coloured blooms and filled the air with a soft fragrance.

He watched her for a spell. From where he stood, he saw her lips move as she spoke with that pet snake of hers. In truth, he did not mind the serpent, it was friendly enough to him and even exchanged a few quips with him now and then. A smile curved her lips at something the snake was saying and she nodded as though in agreement. Laying a cut peony in the basket, she rubbed the small of her back while looking up at the sky.

He could not hold it in any longer. He could only imagine her reaction to what he was about to say. The fear he had seen in her eyes the day before haunted him, how she had trembled and her voice had shaken.

"Y/N?" He called across the small garden and grinned when she looked up.

"Faolán?" She asked, sounding absurdly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Crossing the small space, he soon stood before her.

"You seem to be in a very good mood," she said, laughing softly at his inability to stay still. "May I ask why?"

Faolán nodded. "I have some splendid news for you sister."

Laying the small shears aside, she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And what might this news be?"

"You no longer have to fear for your children," he replied, smiling widely, his eyes sparkling. "They are safe."

"While I am indeed overjoyed to hear this," Y/N said, her smile mirroring his. "How so exactly?"

"I am surprised you have not heard."

"Heard what?

Sighing, Faolán took both her hands in his. "Her Highness is with child."

Y/N felt all the blood leave her head. "What?" She whispered.

"Like you, the Princess is expecting twins," Faolán explained, "she will have no reason to take yours from you now. Not when she will have her own."

She had forgotten how to breathe as she stared up at him. "Twins?" She repeated softly, her heart beginning to hammer within her as her palms began to feel clammy. Stumbling away from Faolán, she gasped for breath, arms curled around her middle.

"Sister?" He asked, approaching her and most alarmed at her reaction. "Sister, are you alright?"

"It is impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. "Impossible." Looking up at the guard, she asked in a trembling voice, "how far along is she? Do you know?"

Her reaction confused him. The fear from the day before had returned and morphed into pure terror. He nodded. "They say four months."

A choked gasp left her as she curled further in on herself.

"Sister please," he begged her, "you are scaring me. Why do you not smile? This is happy news."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No."

"Why do you say such things?"

"Because," she looked up at him, the tears in her eyes shocked him. "It is impossible for her to be with child. It is biologically impossible."

"What are you talking about?"

"She is barren Faolán!" Y/N burst out, desperate for him to understand. "She cannot have children."

"Y/N," he warned her in a low tone. "This is dangerous talk."

"It is the truth, brother," she protested. "She told her own husband this, she told the Queen herself."

Faolán fell silent.

"Do you truly not see?" Y/N asked, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. "Do you truly not see what she means to do? She is skilled in the ways of magic, she will make the whole realm believe that she is expecting."

Faolán stared at her, still unable to speak.

Y/N shook her head. "Four months pregnant, with twins. Do you truly believe that there are depths she will not sink to?"

"But why? Why would she take them?" 

"Because _he_ is the father," she explained. "Her husband is the father of the children she will never have."

"Perhaps they have found a cure?" He suggested, not believing his own words, even as he spoke them.

Y/N laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. "There is no such thing," she said and sighed heavily. "There is no cure for a barren womb."

"Oh sister," he murmured and wrapped his arms 'round her. His heart clenched as she burrowed in.

"My fears have been realised," she murmured against him. "My worst nightmares have become reality."

"Oh hush now," Faolán whispered and smoothed a hand down her hair and back. "We must get you away from here before the children are born. Somewhere far away."

"Easier said than done," she replied. "I am bound in service to her until she releases me."

"We _will_ find a way," Faolán said, sounding resolute. "I promise you that."

~ ~ ~

Frigga was not surprised when one of her maids heralded the visit of her younger son. Loki appeared shortly after the maid had left.

"Loki," she said simply and watched as he sat beside her. He was struggling for composure, that much was obvious.

"Tell me one thing mother," he said, looking to meet her eyes. "Was she lying when she told you?"

The Queen shook her head and sighed. "No, no she wasn't. I could feel only honesty in the words she spoke to me that day. The same day I imparted news of great joy to Y/N."

A faint smile appeared before it vanished. "She has to leave," he said as the wheels of thought and planning began to turn in his mind.

"Aye," Frigga agreed. "She does. But where? Where could she possibly go? She is bound to Sigyn until she releases her."

"I will find a way," the Prince swore, his fists clenching. "I will not let Odin win. Not again."

"Your father had no hand in this," Frigga said and reached forward, taking his clenched hands in her own. "This is Sigyn, not your father."

"She is his pawn. As vile and cruel as she is, she is merely a tool. A tool to be used against me," pausing, he swallowed hard and took a breath as though to calm himself.

"Did you have a location in mind?" Frigga asked.

"Two, actually," he replied. "The first being Midgard. The place of her exile, but she was accepted there, welcomed. She and the children will be safe there."

"And the second?" His mother prompted gently. "If Midgard were to be compromised, where else would you take her?"

"Alfheim. The home of her race."

"If you take her there," Frigga said, shifting a little to sit properly beside him. "Rumours will spread like wildfire. Even Midgard is a risk."

"Where else am I to take her mother?" He asked desperately. "I finally have within my grasp what I have wanted all along. A family of my own and I will not let Odin, nor his pawn Sigyn, take that from me."

Frigga smiled softly and reached up, cupping his face with one hand. "I have faith that you will create the strongest wards and shields to keep them safe."

Loki nodded and gripped his mother's hand. "They will be the strongest I have ever created. The most intricate too. Y/N and the children will live a safe and happy life."

"One more thing my darling," Frigga said, despising the words she was about to say. "Would you be able to live the rest of your days not seeing her again. Not seeing _them_ again?"

"Mother?"

"If you were to take Y/N to Midgard, you would never be able to see her again. Or the children."

"But why?" 

"Because," Frigga said. "In time, your visits and consequent absences will be noticed. One day, whether you know it or not, you will be followed."

"I will ensure that I am not."

The Queen smiled fondly at her youngest, though it was tinged with sadness. "Oh my boy. My precious, darling boy. One can not be sure of everything. Of most things yes, but not everything."

"I will do what I must to ensure their safety. I will not let anyone take this from me. She must be allowed to live a peaceful life, a life where she is free and where her children remain hers."

"And what of you?" Frigga asked. "Where do you fit in in all this?"

Loki sighed and looked down to their linked hands. "The woman I love is carrying my children, tell me mother," he said and when he looked back up, tears shone in his eyes. "What more could I possibly ask for? What more could I possibly want?"

"Your first instinct has always been to protect," Frigga said and combed a gentle hand through his hair. "Despite what people may say of you. I have the faith to believe that you will do what is best."

"Faith," he whispered and smiled faintly. "She said that too."

"I am sure she did," Frigga said. "She believes in you as much as I do, if not more."

"No one believes in me as much as you do mother."

"For once, you are wrong my dear," Frigga replied. "She loves you as you deserved to be loved."

"More," he whispered, "she loves me more than I deserve."

"We have both seen how far she is willing to go for those she loves," the Queen said, "as I have also seen with you. I am so very proud of you my son."

Loki smiled at his mother. "Your faith and her love. What have I possibly done to deserve such treasures?"

Frigga returned the smile and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "You exist," she replied. "And soon your son and daughter will be here too. And they will love you as much as you already love them and they will know of what you did to protect them and their mother."


	44. The scent of victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn't make my demons disappear  
> she made me strong enough to fight them. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

He waited for her and when she came, she looked as though she were glowing from the inside. So wide was her smile and so bright were her eyes.

"There you are," she said softly and reached for him, his arms embracing her and holding her securely against him. She nuzzled into his warmth and sighed happily. This contentment came from a place within her that had never seen the light of day. It was a contentment she had never thought to feel, least of all with _him._

"How do you fare?" He asked from above her, one of his hands coming to gently caress her hair. 

"I am well," came her reply. "I have been since the discovery."

He smiled and kissed her crown. "I can well imagine. This is something you have wanted for some time."

"Indeed," she murmured and nuzzled further in. He reminded her of the sun, warm, golden and inviting. She could bask in his warmth for nigh on eternity. Where he was the day, full of laughter and bright happiness, her husband was the night. The night that forbade sounds other than that of sleep. The night that was often cold and left one feeling alone in the vastness of the Nine.

"While I am honestly glad to see you," he said softly and drew back slightly to look her in the eye. "Why are you not with him at such a time?"

"He is otherwise occupied," she said, "he is with the Queen at present and I have yet to see or speak with him."

He made a small noise of sympathy and drew her close again. "I am sorry," he whispered, meaning every word. "I am sorry that he does not see this blessing for what it is."

"It is no matter," she replied and lay her head over his heart. "Nor is it your fault that he loves another. It is not your fault that he has no room in his heart for me."

"One day he will see," he murmured and settled his chin atop her head. "I only pray it will not be too late for him."

"I do not wish to speak ill of the Queen, but I do believe that she encourages this _infatuation_ between your brother and that wench," she said, her arms tightening around his waist.

"My mother would never do such a thing," he murmured with an edge to his voice. "She knows better than all of us that there is no future for people such as they."

"If only I could believe you."

"One day you will," he replied gently. "One day he will come back to you and beg you to forgive his foolishness."

"Even you don't believe that," she muttered. "You are his brother and know him better than I. He will never beg for anything."

"He may yet surprise you."

The silence that settled between them was a peaceful one. The woodland glade around them was quiet and bathed in soft moonlight. The occasional twitter of a nightingale or the soft passing of a woodland creature were the only sounds either of them heard.

Neither saw the soft shimmer of silver scales in the trees. Nor did they hear a quiet hiss as a forked tongue flickered in and out. They did not see the serpentine eyes watching them closely and storing away their words in the recesses of memory.

It was the gentle patter of rain that eventually drew them to seek shelter beneath the wide-spreading branches of the trees. There was no wind and the rain fell straight.

"May I?" The Prince asked, one hand hovering over her swollen stomach.

She smiled and nodded, even going so far as to take his hand and lay it there. "You won't feel them move yet," she said, watching his face. "They are still too small."

"Truly a miracle," he whispered and smiled at her.

She nodded.

"Have you thought of names yet?" He asked, hand still resting where she had lain it. "Or is it still too soon to think of such a thing?"

"For the girl," she replied, "I was thinking somewhere along the lines of Gisèle."

"And the boy?" He asked. "What name have you picked out for him?"

"Broderick," she murmured. "He is her brother after all. Only right he should also be named as such."

"Beautiful names," he said, his tone matching hers. "For equally beautiful children."

"I wonder if they will look anything like me," she pondered. "Or more their father."

"I would be willing to wager that little Gisèle will look like you," he replied and smiled. "As for Broderick, I would not be surprised if he takes after my brother."

Humming softly, she leaned back against the tree they stood beneath.

They waited until the rain stopped. The glade was not far from the palace, but the distance was made long by the cold wind that had sprung up in the rain's absence. No one paid them any mind as they hurried through the darkened streets of the capital towards the citadel.

It was only once they neared the gates that they parted ways.

Sigyn made straight for her chambers, a warm bath was in order. The rain and wind had chilled her and her mind was exhausted. The moment she entered through the doors of her chamber, she made to call for Y/N, but stopped mid-action. The girl was already there, stoking a fire that warmed the room nicely.

"Fill the bath," she instructed a heartbeat later and watched as the girl rose, bowing lightly before moving towards the bathing chamber. The Princess watched her closely. Was it an illusion or the clothing that hid her condition? Was it both?

"Your Highness," she murmured dutifully as she emerged from the chamber, the soothing scent of Lavender following her out.

"You are dismissed for the night," Sigyn said and made to wave her hand in dismissal when the faint scent of peonies came to her attention. Looking about the room, she noticed only one bouquet of the flowers. They stood some distance from her and were intermingled with roses and ferns.

However, before she could call the girl back, the maid had already slipped from the chambers, closing the main doors soundlessly behind her.

Clutching a small bundle of clothing close, Y/N hurried through the corridors. The less time spent in the Princess's company, the better. Jörmungandr had not shown himself since he disappeared shortly after sundown. Just where he had gone to, she had not the faintest idea.

Ducking into the palace laundry, she deposited the clothing for the laundresses to find in the morning and made for her own chambers. She was but a short distance from the Servant's Wing when she felt it. At first she believed she had imagined it. But then it came again and with it, a small gasp from her. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she cradled her stomach and smiled. "Did the two of you just move?" She whispered. 'Was that you I just felt?" As though in answer, a little something nudged ever so gently against her hands. 

"It was you," she sighed and leaned against the wall beside her. Allowing herself a few moments, Y/N pushed away from the wall and continued on her way. The smile never really left, despite the constant fear. 

Thanking the Valar that she did not share her chamber with another, Y/N gratefully closed the door behind her and pulled off her shoes before laying down on the bed. On her back, she looked up at the ceiling and the shadows created by the lone candle on her beside table. Lit by her magic the moment she set foot in the room, it provided her with at least a small sliver of light. 

It was there, in the safety of her room, that the illusion was dropped. Clad in nothing but her shift, she smoothed the fabric over the swell of her stomach and settled back against the pillow. "Oh my darlings," she whispered. "My little Vídarr, my little Ayla." 

"Aren't you afraid someone might hear you?" A voice piped up from beside her, startling her. 

"Jorgi," she hissed. "I told you never to sneak up on me like that." 

The snake grinned up at her and let his tongue flick out at her. 

"Where did you go anyway?" Y/N demanded. 

"Ah yes," he replied, not losing the grin. "Once I tell you that, you'll be glad for my absence." 

"Well?" 

"She has picked out names for them," he said, keeping hold of her gaze. "Both of them." 

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded once. "Has she just?" 

"Do you want to know what they are?" He asked. 

After a moment, she reluctantly nodded. "I suppose I do," she murmured. "Though my common sense tells me to say no and remain in ignorant bliss. But my curiosity is the stronger one here." 

"Very well," Jörmungandr said and nodded his head. "Gisèle for the girl and Broderick for the boy." 

Y/N was silent. Her hands clenched into fists where they rested and her jaw became clenched so very tightly. Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Of course she would pick those names," she whispered. "Of course she would ." 

"What makes you say that?" 

"Their meanings," Y/N replied and sighed, leaning back against the wall the bed rested against. 

"Aren't you perhaps putting too much thought into this?" Jörmungandr asked, slithering up to rest on the bed beside her. "Maybe she chose those names because she likes the way they sound?"

Y/N regarded him with a raised brow. "When have you known her to be like that? Every thing she does has a meaning behind it. Why wouldn't this?" 

"I suppose you're right," the snake muttered and settled his head on her thigh, blinking up at her. "So, what do they mean? The names." 

"Gisèle means _Noble Offspring_ and Broderick means _Brother."_

"That bitch," Jörmungandr hissed, eyes narrowing into slits. "I did not think I could hate someone as much as as I hate her." 

Y/N smiled grimly and sighed. 

Whatever Jörmungandr had been planning on saying next was interrupted by a short knock on the door. Quickly throwing the illusion back up, Y/N went to see who it was. Upon opening the door, she was met with an empty corridor. Confused, she looked both ways before retreating. 

It was the soft shuffle of something on the ground that caught her attention. Looking down, she saw a small piece of parchment paper. Curious, she bent and scooped it up. 

_ "My darling,  _

_ Forgive me for not coming to see you sooner. I shall await you in my mother's chambers. There is something of high importance that we must discuss.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Loki " _

"I have to go," Y/N muttered and set about collecting her clothes once more.  


"Just where might you be going?" Jörmungandr asked. "I know who that note is from and don't think for one moment that Sigyn won't have people watching him, and you." 

"I have to go," she repeated as she slipped her shoes on. "You can stay here if you like." 

"As if," he retorted and slithered up her arm. "Where you go, I go too." 

As shadows they crept through the darkened halls of the palace. Aided by magic, they made not a sound as they slipped past the guards that patrolled and guarded the gardens and corridors.

It wasn't long before they stood before the white marble doors of the Queen's private chambers. With a trembling hand, Y/N raised to knock against the stone. 

She never got the chance. Before she could so much as touch the doors, one swung open and she was pulled in. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her and held her close. "Sire," she breathed upon seeing who it was. 

Without so much a word in greeting, he crashed their lips together. No words were needed as their mouths met in a heated clash of teeth and tongue, no battle for dominance, but a sensual dance that they needed no music for. 

He panted lightly when at last they parted. Burying his face in her shoulder, he seemed to breathe her in. "Oh my love," he murmured before drawing back and smoothing her hair. "Come, mother is waiting for us." 

Confused, she allowed him to lead her further into the royal chambers. 

Frigga rose upon their entrance and smiled warmly at them both. "Loki?" She said, addressing her son. "Have you the cloaks?" 

"Cloaks?" Y/N repeated and looked to the Prince who was indeed carrying two very thick cloaks over his arm. 

"Yes mother," he replied. 

"Excellent," Frigga said and turned to Y/N. "Your confusion is only natural, my dear." 

"May I ask what is happening Your Majesty?" 

In answer, the Queen looked to Loki and nodded, who in turn wrapped one of the cloaks around her shoulders and one around his own. 

Taking one of her hands in his, Loki looked into her eyes and smiled tenderly. "Mother is helping us, helping you." 

"Helping with what?" Y/N asked, desperate for answers as she looked between them. 

"In leaving Asgard," Loki replied, tangling their fingers together. 

"Truly?" Y/N whispered, squeezing his hand and cradling her stomach with her free one. "Truly?" 

Frigga nodded. "Indeed my dear, but we must hurry." 


	45. A slice of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She found the colours to paint him where the world had left him gray. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

She never thought she would lay eyes on it ever again. The little cottage with its overflowing garden that her mother would have been proud of.

"You will be safe here," Loki was saying, watching her roam the garden. "The children too."

At this, she turned and held out a hand, beckoning him to her. The moment he held her, back against chest, she dropped the illusion. Guiding his hands, she cradled her stomach. "I felt them move," she said softly. "Just before I came to you."

Loki said nothing as he held her. No magic hid her form from him now. In the soft light of the moon he beheld her, round with his children and smiling. Smiling as though she had everything she could ever have wished for. She still wore the cloak, as it protected her from the light chill in the air.

With a contented sigh, she leaned back against him, her eyes going to the moon. Then the stars. "Are the stars the same on Asgard?" She asked. "Or are they different?"

"A little different," he replied and rested his chin on her shoulder. "We have different constellations. But the moon is the same we see now."

"Fascinating," she murmured.

They simply stood there, in complete silence. The company of the other was enough for them.

"Will you stay?" She asked at last, turning her face a little to meet his gaze.

The Prince nodded. "As long as I am able to, my love," he replied and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

At the utterance of those words, Y/N hugged his arms tighter around her. "Will you go back?"

"One day" he whispered against her neck. "And you and the children will come with me."

She giggled softly. "Our children," she murmured.

"Our children," he repeated. "Our beautiful children."

Y/N nodded. "Our little family," she whispered, feeling her throat close with the emotions beginning to well up.

"Indeed."

"Who is able to cross the wards?" She asked suddenly.

"Only those that mean no ill will towards you and our children," he replied patiently, holding her just that little bit tighter. "I swear to you, my darling. This is intricate magic."

"How so?"

"It reads the heart. One may pretend all they wish, but the heart will never lie."

"My mind will not give me peace," she said and sighed heavily. "It turns my dreams to nightmares. My fear will not abate."

Loki knew well that no words could calm her mind, for the same fears plagued him. Instead, he simply held her as the sun began to warm the sky as dawn approached.

The garden, sensing the approach of the day, began to unfurl around them. The flowers who embraced the sun's warmth began to wake and present their colour-soaked petals to the world. A soft morning breeze swept through the garden, the leaves on the trees rustling and the larks that had been nestled in their branches began to sing.

"Come," she said softly, turning in his arms. "I want to show you the village."

He regarded her with a sad smile. "Are you sure that is wise, my love?"

Y/N nodded, stepping back and taking his hand, tangling their fingers together. "The village still sleeps, and those that are awake will likely pay us no mind."

"Will they not inquire about you?" Loki asked, following her despite his hesitation. "Ask where you were? What you are doing back?" His voice dropped to a whisper and Y/N felt a crack form in her heart. "Least of all with me?"

"My darling, listen to me," she says gently. "These people did not once ask about the scarring on my face. They were curious, yes. But they did not pry. Nor did they ask from whence I came. Though I suspected they had their own theories as to that. They may recognise you, they may not. We shall take it all in our stride."

"You really are something else," he breathed, wonder colouring his words. "A rare breed indeed."

Shaking her head, Y/N laughed softly. "Hardly. But I thank you for the sentiment."

As dawn crept over the still slumbering village, they walked silently down the main street. Arm in arm they were and speaking softly between them.

"And just through here," she was saying as they ducked under another tree, "is just the most darling spring. They tell me that it is centuries old, nearing on a millennia." And what a fascinating sight it was. Surrounded by a shallow pool was a towering stone structure that bore intricate arches from which water cascaded gently down. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Loki soon found himself agreeing. They stood in a glade of sorts, soft grass beneath feet and tall swaying trees overhead. The soft scent of the flower bushes hung in the air. "It most certainly is."

"They seemed quite surprised the first time I asked them about it."

"How come?" 

"Well, you see," she replied and pointed to the arches. "If you peer closely, you'll see something etched on them. Runes I believe." She smiled upon seeing his interest piqued and momentarily let go of his hand. "Go on," she encouraged. "Take a look." 

"Fascinating," he muttered as he read the runes. "Most intriguing."

"It is?" Y/N asked, absently rubbing her stomach.

"Indeed," the Prince replied and turned back to her. "These were carved by the first mortals to dwell here."

"How could you know such a thing?"

"Easy," Loki replied and approached her, taking her in his arms. "Because I was here when this structure was created."

Wonder filled her eyes as she stared back at him. "Were you really?"

He nodded, running his hands up and down her back. "They did not fear me then," he murmured, a faraway look in his eyes. It made her heart clench to see him so. "Not like they do now."

"What do they say?" Y/N asked softly, laying her head against his chest and encircling his waist. "The runes."

This brought the smile back. "Nothing overly intricate," he replied. "A simple enchantment."

"What kind?"

Looking down, he met her fascinated gaze. Leaning down so his lips brushed the shell of her ear, he whispered, "good fortune." 

Warmth blossomed within her at his words and she snuggled in close. "It worked for me then," she whispered back. "You found me."

A peaceful silence settled over them, broken only by the sounds of nature.

"I used to come here," she continued to speak after a few moments. "The locals told me that the pool at its base was once used as a wishing well." She grinned up at him, "and my wishes came true."

"You believed the stories of the mortals?"

Y/N nodded and hummed softly at the back of her throat. "Anything to allow me to see you but once more," she replied softly. "Wishing rarely helps, but where powerful magic resides, that rule is subject to change."

"You truly believe that it worked?" Loki asked, curious.

"I do." Pausing, Y/N took a deep breath before slowly releasing it. "I always felt safe here. It was your magic wasn't it? Your magic that resides in this spring?" 

He nodded slowly, "yes," he murmured.

"I knew it," she said fondly. "I knew that this hatred of the mortals was not your doing. You loved them once, loved them enough to leave a piece of yourself behind with them."

"That was a long time ago," he murmured, averting his gaze to the spring. "A very long time ago."

Following his gaze, she sighed softly. "Does Odin know of this place? Of your connection to it?"

Loki shook his head. "If he had, he would not have sent you here."

"Does your mother know of it?"

After a moment, he nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I told her of it after I returned."

Y/N beamed and took hold of his hand. "Then I am sure that she is as proud of you as I am, if not more so."

The village was awake as they reentered it. Children ran about and neighbours called good mornings to each other. Beside her, Y/N felt Loki tense and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

It did not take long before their presence was noticed and a number of the villagers called out to her, surprising her greatly. She had been gone for a little over a year. It warmed her heart that they remembered her. Matching their enthusiasm, she returned the greetings.

"They seem to recall you," Loki remarked. "Even after your long absence."

"I know," she sighed. "I am astounded."

"Darling?"

At his soft tone, Y/N looked to him and then down, following his gaze. A young girl stood before them, in her hand she held two flowers, one white lily and a lily-of-the-valley. No older than six, she was looking shyly up at them. "Hello there sweetling," Y/N greeted, smiling at the child.

The girl returned her smile with a shy one of her own, her little hand trembling lightly as she held the lily out to her. "For me?" Y/N asked softly and the girl nodded. Taking the flower, she gently traced its snow white petals. "Thank you," she said and nodded her head. "It is very beautiful."

What the child did next made Y/N's heart stutter and she held her breath. The little girl had turned her shy gaze to the Prince and held the lily-of-the-valley out to him. Loki seemed equally as stunned, if not more so.

"Is that for me, little one?" He asked in a voice she had never heard before. She knew well that he was waiting for her to run in fear back to her mother. But no such moment came. There was no fear in the girl's eyes. When she nodded, Loki let go of Y/N's hand and knelt before the child. Extending a hand, he accepted the flower and Y/N was sure her heart was going to burst when he smiled at the young girl. "Thank you," he said. "We do not have flowers like this where I come from. I will treasure it." At this, the girl gave a shy smile of her own.

Y/N was sure she had forgotten how to breathe as she watched the scene unfold. Beside her, she felt him stand as the little girl ran back to her mother who waved for them to come closer. Her mother it seemed, was the village florist.

"Y/N, isn't it?" She asked, extending a hand that she readily took.

"Indeed," Y/N replied and smiled at the woman. "Was that your little one that approached us?"

"It was," the older woman replied and smiled fondly at the youngster who was still looking shyly up at the couple from behind her mother's legs.

"It was very kind of you to gift us with these," Loki spoke up, drawing the woman's attention to him. 

"My pleasure."

"Quite the shy little thing," Y/N murmured, winking at the child. "And sweet too."

The florist laughed softly and stroked her daughter's hair. "Indeed she is, and it seems you are expecting one of your own?" She asked, seeing Y/N's free hand cradle her stomach.

"Two, actually," Y/N replied before she could stop herself. "Twins."

"My congratulations," came the warm reply. "My congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," Y/N replied and smiled softly at Loki. He returned her smile before drawing her close and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

The florist smiled fondly at the sight. "Pardon my curiosity," she said. "But have you been married long?"

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, when Loki stepped in. "A little over a year now," he replied smoothly and Y/N felt her heart miss more than a few beats.

"How lovely," the older woman cooed softly. "People like you always bring me such joy."

Y/N was too overcome with emotion to properly respond. She fervently hoped that no tears had escaped. Allowing Loki to bid farewell to the woman for both of them, she remained silent. Taking his offered arm, she followed him away from the small shop and did not speak again until the cottage was in sight. "Married?" She whispered, halting him.

"Love-"

She shook her head and graced him with a watery smile, the lily held close. "They believe us to be married," she said, her eyes shining.

"Indeed," he replied and moved to stand before her.

"If only that were true," she sighed and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Here it is," Loki murmured and wrapped his arms securely around her. "Here it is. Here you and I are wed and expecting our first child, children in our case." Pausing, he rested his cheek atop her head and smiled. "Here we are not glared at. We are not spoken about in harsh whispers behind our backs. Here we are free."

"The collar around my neck would disagree," Y/N muttered, to which Loki chuckled and drew something small into her line of sight.

"I am certain you recognise this?" He asked.

Y/N nodded. The small key to her collar that Sigyn always kept on her person. "How?" She asked in a breathy whisper.

His eyes sparkled with mischief and tenderness. "I have my ways, now, turn."

The sound of the key turning in the lock and metal leaving her skin had Y/N believe it was all a dream. She looked up to him, tears distorting her vision. "I'm free?" She whimpered, the hand that held the lily gently brushing over her newly bared throat.

Loki nodded and with a feather-light touch, swiped her tears away. "You are free, my angel," he replied and touched their foreheads together.

She could not stop the laughter that bubbled from her. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It only grew in volume as he lifted and spun her. She was breathless when at last he set her down. Still giggling, she buried her face in his shoulder. "If today was anything," she whispered against the skin of his neck. "Then let it be an example of the wonderful father I know you will be."

"You have said that before," he remarked, tightening his hold on her.

"And I will say it many more times," she said, drawing back to meet his eyes. "And each time I shall mean it. That little girl, she wasn't frightened of you. She smiled for you. Have you any idea what it did to me, seeing that?" The tears came again. "My heart was fit to burst, it was so full. Your heart is warmer than the sun," she said and cupped his face with both hands. "Worth more than any treasure and bigger than the universe itself."

"Only because you have made it so," Loki whispered, voice heavy with emotion as he looked back at her.

"No," she replied and shook her head. "It has always been so. It has merely been hidden from those who do not value it. Our children are so very lucky to have you as their father."

"No more fortunate than with you as their mother," he said, laughing softly at her gentle blushing before bending at the waist and scooping her up into his arms, cradling her close. 

Y/N yelped in surprise, the sound soon cut short as he kissed her. Soon her arms wound around his neck and her fingers tangled themselves in his hair.

Reluctantly breaking away, Loki grinned down at her. "Shall we go home, _wife?"_

"Yes," she replied, mirroring his grin and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Yes we shall, _husband."_

The cottage was not far, the sun had reached its midpoint by the time they crossed the threshold and Loki set her down. He surveyed the cottage's interior from where he stood. "This is where you lived?"

Y/N nodded. "I did and now, our children will too." Taking a deep breath, she asked. "Will you?"

"Oh my love," he breathed, nuzzling her cheek. "Just you try and dissuade me."


	46. Before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was finally happy. No longer shackled to the impossible dreams of youth and worldly expectations.
> 
> ~ Michael Faudet

_\- Asgard, five months later -_

"Are you sure of this Your Highness?"

Sigyn nodded and gestured for the servants to continue. The cradle for the twins was to be placed at the foot of the bed. The twins that would be arriving any day now. No gown was big enough to hide anymore.

Letting out a soft sigh, she wandered towards the large windows and saw that the sky had darkened with storm clouds. A smile curved her lips as she cradled the illusion. The distant rumble of thunder promised a storm that Thor would be proud of. Thor, who was the cause of her husband's absence that day. She had not seen Loki since breakfast. They had not been on speaking terms since the announcement.

Of course he knew. He always knew.

The chamber doors opened behind her to reveal Y/N as she entered, carrying a rather large basket filled with chopped wood. Closing the door silently behind her with her foot, she moved to set the laden basket down by the fireplace and knelt beside it. Sigyn watched as the maid stacked the wood for a fire, a chill had already entered the air. Soon the sound of a crackling fire permeated the air and its warmth soon spread.

As Y/N made to stand, she leaned heavier than usual on the wall beside the hearth, a small expression of discomfort on her face before it disappeared and she gathered up the basket. The Princess watched every movement, not missing how one of the maid's hands went to the small of her back before she bobbed a curtsy and departed.

Leaving the window, she sat by the dancing flames and held out both hands, feeling the warmth seep into her. It tingled on her palms and made her toe off her slippers. Behind her, she heard the faint sounds of rain patter against the glass and the sounds of the servants as they finished settling the cradle. It made for a peaceful atmosphere. Everything was happening as it ought to.

The moment the servants bowed and took their leave, she fell back against the plush armchair. The illusion fell and she was left clutching at fabric that never stretched the way it was believed. Looking to the fire, she saw and heard it all. Laughter, a sound so filled with joy. The fire showed her all.

It brought the memories back.

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and made her realise just how late it really was. She had been in her own head for too long to see the sun begin to sink toward the horizon.

It was Y/N who entered, carrying a beautiful midnight blue evening gown. The crystals on the bodice sparkled in the lamp lights as she laid it down on the bed.

"Your Highness," she said, curtsying.

Saying nothing, Sigyn rose and made her way to where the maid was patiently waiting. Motioning her forward with a small gesture of the hand, Sigyn said not a word as the gown she had been wearing through the day was pulled away. The evening gown soon replaced it, the extra give in the fabric allowing for something that wasn't even there.

Y/N's hands were steady as she brushed and styled the Princess's hair. In the braids and curls, she placed pins that bore twinkling sapphires at their tips. Stepping back once her task was completed, she said nothing as she bowed her head and waited for the Princess to rise and inspect herself in the mirror.

Inspect herself she did. Cradling her stomach as she had seen Y/N do, she smiled at her reflection. It was all so believable.

She felt the maid's eyes on her as she swept from the room not a moment later. Loki had not entered the shared chambers, choosing to await his wife at the threshold. Taking his offered arm, she cast a quick glance back and through the crack left by the doors, she saw Y/N. She had dropped the illusion, revealing the true extent of her condition. Sigyn saw it all, in the way the maid circled her arms around her swollen stomach, in the way her hands moved in gentle patterns over it.

Shaking her head, the Princess directed her gaze ahead.

Soft music accompanied the evening meal. A harp, delicately played. Many questions came her way, all filled to the brim with excitement as they eyed her rounded form. Early Autumn was what she told them.

"Twas the last day of Summer yesterday," a young noblewoman remarked. "Will you children come tomorrow, when the first leaves fall?"

Sigyn chuckled and shrugged. "I cannot say," she replied. "I do not make the decision. The healers can merely predict, but it is all up to the child."

"Children, in this case," another Lady piped up, smiling.

"Indeed," the Princess murmured and looked down for a moment before meeting their gazes, each in turn. "All I wish for, is for them to be healthy. If they are early or late, it matters not to me."

"If I may be so bold, Princess?" One of the group said. "I firmly believe that you will be an excellent mother." She paused and smiled warmly, laying a reassuring hand atop one of Sigyn's. "Your children are indeed blessed."

"I thank you for your kind words, Lady Ingrid," Sigyn replied, returning the smile.

"The sentiment is shared by the whole court," Lady Ingrid said, the other Ladies nodding and murmuring in agreement. "Ever since the announcement, the whole realm has been in a perpetual state of excitement."

"But what of the Prince? He did not seem as happy as you, Princess," Lady Ingrid said softly.

"He was merely surprised," Sigyn replied, looking over to where her husband was speaking with his mother. "I did not inform him of the nature of the announcement."

Murmurs and whispers of understanding rippled through the group.

"It was a surprise for us both," Sigyn continued and lay a hand atop her stomach. "Pleasant, of course."

"I can well imagine," Lady Ingrid sighed wistfully. "My husband and I have often discussed the topic of children, though nothing has come of it, as you can see."

"In time my dear," the Princess assured her. "It took me two years."

The remainder of the night passed in a peaceful fashion. The great hearths in the great hall were home to crackling fires that warmed the grand room, especially now as the cooler months approached.

Sigyn let her gaze wander through the room, until at last it settled on the younger of the two Aesir Princes. Not once had he spoken with her that evening. Only a smile here and there. To the casual observer, the expression was warm and brimming with affection. But Sigyn knew better.

Her silent observation was cut short when three very distinct figures entered the hall, unusually late. The Princess smiled to herself as she rose from her place, leaving a double as she made her way through the crowd towards them.

"Good evening gentlemen," she greeted them.

"Your Highness," they replied in unison and bowed before meeting her eyes.

"I trust all has been taken care of?" She asked, leading them from the hall and out into the corridors beyond.

"Indeed," Fandral replied and gripped the pommel of his rapier, lifting his chin. "Though may I ask, why him?"

"Because it cannot be any of you three," she replied as though it were overly obvious.

"Then why send us?" Volstagg asked, canting his head to the side.

"Reassurance," Sigyn explained. "To make sure that nothing goes awry. So far everything has worked beautifully. I am so close now, _we_ are so close. We cannot afford to slip up."

"When are we to do this?" Hogun asked from where he stood between his companions.

"I shall inform you," she said.

"But how will Your Highness know?" Hogun continued.

"I have my methods," Sigyn said. "I know the three of you are distrustful of the mystic arts, but you must put your trust in them for just this once. This endeavor will bear fruit, just you wait and see. Now come with me."

Wordlessly they followed her, shrouded in a cloaking spell. It wasn't long before they entered the Royal Wing. With no small amount of hesitation, they trailed after her as she reentered her chambers. The maid was nowhere to be seen, yet a lively fire danced in the hearth, casting the room in a warm flickering light.

Never had the three of them ever believed they would enter the chambers of the Dark Prince.

The Princess however, disappeared into the Prince's study before emerging and carrying in her arms what looked to be a rounded piece of black glass.

"Dare I ask what that is Your Highness?" Fandral asked, eyeing the object nervously.

Sigyn smiled and set the black glass against the mirrors of her vanity. "A mirror," she explained.

"Then how is it black?" Hogun muttered.

"It is black glass," Sigyn replied and turned to face them. "This is a special mirror. His Highness has no knowledge of my using it."

Fandral's eyes widened. "That thing is his?"

Sigyn laughed and nodded. "You needn't look so surprised. You all know that my husband is well versed in the magical arts."

"That makes me all the more uneasy," Volstagg muttered under his breath.

"What does one do with a mirror such as this?" Hogun asked, as though fearful of the answer.

"Very simply," she said, "scrying."

"What now?" Fandral asked, blinking.

"Scrying," Sigyn repeated. "It is a means of seeing things that have yet to occur and events that are happening where I am not." The three of them nodded slowly, but the fear and mistrust in their eyes never quite left.

Turning back to the mirror, she closed her eyes and let her hands hover close to the surface. Words in the old language flowed from her tongue, words that were interrupted by a groan of pain.

"Is that-?"

Sigyn's eyes flew open at Volstagg's question and latched onto the sight the mirror presented.

With one hand clutched firmly in his and the other on her swollen stomach, was Y/N. Her eyes were squeezed shut as another groan left her. When at last she opened her eyes, she looked to Loki who stood beside her. _"The babies-"_ she gasped. 

_"The children are coming?"_ Loki asked, as though he could barely believe it and Y/N nodded. At this, he lifted her and swiftly carried her through the halls of an unfamiliar house. Only stopping once he had reached a bedroom, the Prince gently lay her down and smoothed her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. _"Tell me, my darling, tell me what I must do."_

_"Get help,"_ she managed to say, clinging to his hand. 

_"I will not leave you here like this."_

Y/N managed a small smile. _"We cannot do this alone, my love. These people have helped me before. I have the faith to believe that they may just do so again."_

_"Are you sure?"_ Loki asked softly. 

She managed a weak nod. _"I want nothing more than you at my side through this, but we need help."_

Tearing her eyes away from the scene, Sigyn stepped in front of the mirror, cutting off their view and dissolving the image. The Warriors Three stared at her. Clasping her hands together, Sigyn stepped around them and gestured for them to follow her to the door. 

"How are they here as well as, well, wherever that was?" Fandral asked, thoroughly confused.

"Illusions," Sigyn replied. "Very intricate ones too. My husband is not here and neither is she."

"Then where are they?" Volstagg asked.

"Midgard and have been for the past five months," the Princess replied.

"That is where we will be going then?"

Sigyn nodded. "Indeed and make sure to take him with you. This will have all been for naught otherwise."

"Am I right to assume," Hogun spoke up, "that we are to depart rather soon?"

"We all saw the same thing," Sigyn replied. "The twins are on their way and the four of you must be there to bring them home. Home to me."


	47. The first leaves of Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of everything I've seen, it's you I want to go on seeing, of everything I've touched, it's your flesh I want to go on touching.
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself, okay!

It felt like an eternity since Loki had left to fetch the village midwives. The village was remote and the journey to the nearest hospital would take the better part of a day.

Forcing herself to stand, Y/N began to pace the room. In soft tones she spoke with her children. "This is it," she whispered. "Your father and I are so very excited to meet you both." Smiling down at her stomach, she made to say more when a bolt of pain shot through her, not unlike the ones before. Whimpering, she leaned against the bedroom wall. "Hurry," she whimpered. "My love please-" her words were cut off as the pain became sharper. The bolts were coming at more regular intervals now and lasting longer.

Pushing away from the wall, she forced herself to keep walking, albeit slowly. Her clenched jaw kept any whimpers at bay.

Breathing deeply, Y/N closed her eyes. Focusing on her breathing took her mind away from the pain. "How long will it be, I wonder?" She murmured. "How long until I hold you both in my arms?"

Cradling her stomach, she continued to pace the length of the room. The movement seemed to be helping.

When the pain came again, it was sharper and accompanied by a rush of liquid from between her legs. Her waters had broken. "Loki," she whimpered. "LOKI!" She screamed.

His name was the first thing he heard when he returned, out of breath and with the two midwives behind him. The panic in her voice saw him bolt towards her chamber. He found her, standing in the middle of the room, a small puddle at her feet. "Y/N?" He breathed.

Looking up at his entrance, she reached for him. "They're coming," she said in a trembling voice. "They're coming."

Immediately going to her, Loki held her close. "I have brought help, my darling. Shhh," he murmured, smoothing her hair.

"We must get her on the bed," one of the women said, smiling warmly at them both.

Nodding, Loki gently lifted her and lay her back on the bed. Instantly, her hands shot out, clutching at his. "Don't go," she begged. "Please."

"I will not," he whispered in reply and kissed the back of her hand. "I have already left you alone for too long."

Around them, the two women busied themselves with preparations for the birth. Occasionally they would sneak glances at the couple. It would be difficult indeed to part them.

The older of the two approached them and stood beside the bed, next to where Loki was kneeling. "I take it that you will be staying for the birth, Your Highness?"

Both Y/N and Loki looked to her in surprise and it Y/N who spoke. "You know who he is?" She asked in a trembling whisper.

The woman nodded. "We all do."

Loki said nothing. The whole world knew who he was, and for reasons he would much rather forget. But as he looked up into this mortal woman's eyes, there was no fear or mistrust. There was only sincerity.

"Don't make him leave," Y/N said, her grip on his hands tightening. "I cannot do this without him. I cannot do this alone."

Finally, he spoke. In a voice both resolute and vulnerable, he said, "I will not leave her side."

The older woman smiled. "I thought as much." She watched as, with heartbreaking gentleness, the Prince stood and maneuvered himself to sit on the bed, Y/N's head coming to rest in his lap.

The time that passed them by went unnoticed by all. The day aged around them and Y/N's grip on his hands became vice-like. Her fingers dug into the backs of his hands and her eyes were screwed shut as her back arched, a wave of pain coursing through her.

Every sound she made, every cry and whimper was a knife to the heart. He had done this to her, he was the cause of this. Yet not once did she blame or curse him, she would smile up at him whenever her eyes opened. The smiles would often tremble at the edges and would glisten with her tears.

Her tears that dampened the fabric of his pants as she turned her head and buried her face in the fabric. She inhaled deeply, the scent of him surrounded her, comforted her. Her next whimper was muffled.

"I am so sorry, my love," he whispered, bending to touch their foreheads together. "Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she gasped.

"I have always caused you pain," he said, his lips moving amidst her hair. "Even when I sought to bring you comfort."

Stubbornly, she shook her head and met his gaze. "No," she whispered. "You are all I need. You are all I have. You are my light in the dark, my hope."

The emerald eyes that met hers swam with tears. They did not spill as he gazed down at her with such tenderness that Y/N felt her heart stutter within her.

"You are my strength," she continued. "You did not inflict this pain, please don't think that."

Before the Prince could get in a reply, the younger midwife placed a gentle hand on one of Y/N's bent knees. "Mistress?" She said softly. "You need to push."

Nodding shakily, Y/N took a deep breath, letting it go as she pushed. A scream pouring from her lips.

Loki was sure he had never heard the like. He had seen war and death, he had heard men dying and crying out for help. But those haunting cries were banished in the face of this anguish. This sound that issued from her was pure agony.

The world darkened as the sun sank below the horizon and ended another day. Her screams were heard distantly and all who heard them knew what was happening.

But in that room, clinging to his hands with more strength than she knew she possessed, Y/N pushed to welcome her children into the world. Her spine arched as she pushed once more, her head was driven further into his lap and her tears soon mingled with the sweat on her brow.

"It hurts," she whimpered, her breath coming in short gasps. "It hurts so much."

What was he to say in comfort to that? He knew pain, he was all too familiar with it. But this was different. Unable to do much else, Loki bent once more and pressed his lips to her forehead. For a brief moment, she nuzzled into the touch and inhaled shakily. "You are doing so very well, my love," he whispered against her sweat-soaked skin. "Take my strength, it is yours."

"Mistress, you must push," one of the midwives gently reminded her. "I can very nearly see the head."

"There," Loki said softly and smiled down at her. "Our first one is almost here."

Nodding and steeling herself, Y/N grit her teeth and pushed. Her clenched teeth were not strong enough to hold back the cry.

Loki felt his heart threaten to break with every scream. It had already become so fragile at seeing her in pain. Now, as she gasped for breath, her chest heaving and her face tear stained and with the sheets by her legs stained with her blood, the Prince could not afford to show just how much her suffering affected him. She needed him to be strong, she was already so weak after near on twelve hours.

As the sun's first rays filtered into the room, she heard the words she had been longing for. "One more push, Mistress."

Readjusting her grip on Loki's hands, she briefly looked up and met his gaze. "Almost there," he murmured and she smiled shakily in response.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed and with it came a scream unlike those of before. A scream that soon turned into weeping as the cries of a newborn echoed through the room.

"A beautiful healthy boy."

"Vídarr," his parents whispered and Y/N noticed a single tear trace its way down Loki's cheek as he looked to where the midwives gently bundled and cleaned the newborn Prince. A fierce love blossomed within her as she watched him. "Our son," she whispered, drawing his eyes back to her.

"Our son," he replied, a tremor to his voice. "Our little Prince."

Y/N nodded and made to take a breath when she felt it, little Ayla was intent on joining her brother it seemed. The midwives noted this too, and while one held the child, the other moved to assist with the second twin.

"She's rather eager to be with her brother," she said, earning a few chuckles.

So it began again. Little Ayla it seemed, was in a bit of a hurry and tried to get her shoulder out first. Holding Loki's gaze while the child was righted, Y/N offered up what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Our darling girl is being a little difficult," she said and earned a huffed laugh from the Prince.

It was on the second day of Autumn that Prince Vídarr and his twin sister, Princess Ayla-Seren were born. As the first leaf fell from the tree outside, Ayla announced her arrival with wails that rivaled her brother's.

Her mother's own cries became soft laughter as she looked up to where Loki was already looking at her. "We did it," she whispered, smiling widely despite the tears. "We did it."

"No," Loki replied, gently untangling their hands and smoothing the sweat-soaked strands of her hair. " _You_ did it. You did it all and I am so very proud of you."

Even in her weakened state, she sought his lips. They caressed hers tenderly and only parted when a polite cough was heard. The two midwives stood before them, each carrying a bundle. Both Loki and Y/N extended their arms, though hers shook.

Without hesitation, they passed over the children to their waiting parents.

"Look at them," Y/N whispered, awestruck. "They are so beautiful, so perfect."

"Yes, my love," Loki murmured, looking between the twins and their mother. His eyes shone like stars and displayed his heart for all to see. "They are beautiful, but only because they take so much after you. In all my years, I could have never believed that something so pure, so tender and innocent could come from me." Pausing, he traced a feather-light finger along his son's cheek and pressed a soft kiss to the tiny forehead. Looking back to Y/N, he did the same for Ayla, sound asleep in her mother's arms. "You saved me, darling," he continued, meeting her eyes and touching their foreheads together. "And now, you have blessed me yet again with these children."

"Loki," she whispered emotionally.

"I swear to every star in the Nine," he continued. "That I will love and protect the three of you forever. This, you and they," he paused and looked to the twins before looking back to Y/N, whose heart was fit to burst. "You are my redemption."

Y/N gasped softly and leaned into his touch. "My Loki," she murmured. "The love you have for us is returned one hundredfold. I could not have done this without you."

Saying nothing, the Prince curled his free arm around her shoulders and drew her impossibly closer. The midwives had long since cleaned her and departed silently, allowing the small family time with each other.

With her head resting on his shoulder, Y/N sighed, a sleepy smile on her lips. "You must know how much I love you," she said softly, "how much I love you all."

"Believe me, my heart," Loki replied, looking fondly down at her and little Ayla. "We know and we love you too." One tear fell and landed in her hair, his eyes closed. "More than one could ever love another. You have my heart entirely and I beg of you to never let it go."

Y/N felt tears of her own and nodded. "Yours forever," she whispered.

"They have your ears," he said suddenly, drawing a surprised look from her.

Y/N laughed softly when she saw that indeed, the ears of her children resembled her own and were lightly pointed at the tip. "They have your hair," she said, smoothing a soft strand of ebony hair away from Ayla's sleeping features.

"Yes," he whispered, wonder in his voice. "Yes they do."

Settling back against the pillows and Loki, Y/N let her eyes drift closed. As she drifted into sleep, a soft singing reached her ears. Her heart stuttered upon realising it was his voice. It was deep, smooth and soothing. A lullaby in the old language and the very same that Frigga had sung to him when he was a babe.

It wove a nest of security around them and when his voice trailed into silence, Y/N was fast asleep. Curled against him with their daughter in her arms, while Vídarr slept soundly in his.


	48. A shattered world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........Sorry
> 
> (I apologise for any typos, I shall fix them as soon as I am emotionally coherent)

Her mind flew into a panic when she woke alone. The twins and Loki were gone.

She was lying in the bed alone, an indent in the mattress beside her was the only evidence that she'd once had company. Her fearful thoughts were soon brought to a screeching halt at the sound of a soft voice. Low, calming, and male.

Looking to where the voice came from, she felt her heart swell at the sight. Seated on the window seat in a pool of sunlight, was Loki. In his arms he held them both. It seemed as though they were awake and staring in wide-eyed wonder up at their father.

She continued to watch in rapt silence as he spoke with them and when he gently set them down on the cushioned seat, little butterflies of glowing emerald danced from his palm. Y/N swallowed hard and bit her lip as she felt the first tear. She could watch them forever.

"Already now your smile looks like your mother's," he said to them as both smiled at the sight of the shimmering butterflies. "Shall I show you more?"

Horses pranced through the air. Bird flew and sang.

As the birds faded into the morning air, the Prince bent down and kissed each of them in turn, lips brushing gently over their crowns. With that, he scooped them up once more and cradled them close.

"I knew it," she murmured to the silver snake curled around her bedside lamp. "Look at him and tell me I'm wrong."

Jörmungandr shook his head as his gaze followed hers. "You're not wrong," he replied softly. "Your faith was not misplaced. They love him already."

"How could they not?" She said softly, smiling, her eyes never leaving her family. "After everything he's done for them?"

Jörmungandr said nothing. He knew the danger wasn't over, but saying such things would ruin the joyous mood. When he looked back to Y/N, he saw it. He saw it hidden beneath warmth and the joy. Fear.

Fear that everything she had now, could be easily taken away by cold, cruel hands.

"Loki," she called out softly, gaining his attention. She needed him and the children close. She needed to make sure that this was reality, not a cruel dream.

At the sound of his name, he looked to her and smiled tenderly. "Good morning, my love." Moving to stand so as not to jostle the babies, he went to her, wordlessly passing Vídarr to her. Keeping a hold of Ayla, he sat beside her on the bed.

Y/N instantly rested her head on his shoulder, allowing Vídarr enough space to suckle. "Is this real?" She whispered, looking down at their son. "Please tell me this is real."

Loki frowned at her words before curling his free arm around her shoulders and nuzzling her cheek. "It is real, my darling. As real as the day before."

"I want to feel safe," she murmured, smoothing a light finger along the little boy's cheek. "I want them to be safe. But the fear is still very present."

"I know," he sighed. "I do believe that it will always be there, for the both of us. The wards will do their job until you have your strength back."

Y/N nodded against his shoulder.

"But let us not dwell on such things," Loki said. "Let us focus on our very real present and the joy that these two have brought us."

"Right you are," she murmured and gently lifted little Vídarr away from her chest. Resting his head on her shoulder, she patted him lightly on the back, eliciting little burps from the child.

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

She grinned up at him. "The midwives told me."

And so she did the same with Ayla. The little girl drank deeply and clung to her mother's nightgown. She felt Loki's gaze on her as she lowered her head and pressed a gentle kiss to their daughter's forehead.

"So beautiful," he murmured, winking when Y/N looked up. "The both of you." 

"So handsome," she said in reply, her grin softening. "The both of you."

"And they call me the Silvertongue," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Just when did you learn to leave a god feeling so powerless, my dear?"

It was her turn to wink. "The same time a god made me fall in love with him."

"I care not what the others say," he said softly, nuzzling her neck. "My love for you is as sempiternal as my life."

In the face of such words, she found herself speechless. Even more so when she felt the same. She returned his affectionate gesture, tracing his jawline with her nose and lightly kissing his chin before settling back against him. Ayla now rested against her shoulder, content after her morning meal.

"I should like to go for a walk today," Y/N announced not a moment later.

Loki looked to her in surprise. "Are you sure? You have not yet fully healed, my love."

She laughed softly. "We shall simply have to walk slowly."

Loki soon saw that there was no arguing with her on this matter. Her mind had been made up. Determination sparkled in her eyes, making him shake his head fondly. With the twins nestled in the bedding, he helped her to stand. She swayed for a moment, using his arms for support. "Are you certain?" He asked again, concern clear in his eyes.

"I'm sure," she replied, meeting his gaze. "Though I may need some assistance in dressing."

"Fear not, my darling," he said and with a small wave of his hand, she was attired in the finest Midgardian Autumn wear.

Giggling like a child, she ran her hands along the fine fabric.

"May I safely say that you approve?"

Y/N nodded eagerly. "It is all so very beautiful. Thank you," she added softly, reaching up a hand and laying it against his cheek.

"Only the best for you, my angel," he replied, turning lightly to kiss her palm.

Leaving the property took a little longer than either had been expecting. Y/N had to stop frequently, her still-healing body protested with every move. They had barely made it out of the garden when Loki turned to her, Ayla cradled close while she held Vídarr. She was leaning against the fence, panting lightly and wincing ever so slightly.

"Darling," he said, approaching her. "You really should not be doing this. You were in labor for near on fourteen hours."

"I know," she panted. "But I have to move, I can't lie in bed a moment more. Please Loki, please let us do this, we do not have to go far."

"Your body is still healing," he gently reminded her. "I would despise it if you injured yourself when I could have prevented it."

She said nothing, simply looking up at him with a plea in her e/c eyes.

"Oh very well," he conceded reluctantly. "But will you allow me to create a little something for the twins to be carried in? And before you say anything," he added, holding up his free hand. "It seems as though you will be needing all your strength to simply stand. But fear not, my love. I will carry them and they will be with us the entire time."

After a moment, she nodded. In fascination she watched as a basket of sorts formed in the air, a basket with a rather large handle and cushioned with furs. "Look my darling," she whispered to Vídarr. "Look what your father does for those he loves." She was sure her heart was in her eyes as she watched him place Ayla among the furs with the utmost gentleness and care.

Once the twins were settled, Loki took hold of the basket and curled his free arm around Y/N's shoulders. Promptly, she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Together they walked, as a new family. The light rocking of the basket lulled the twins to sleep and Y/N smiled softly when she saw this. "They really are so very precious," she murmured.

Loki followed her gaze and matched her smile with his own. "Indeed they are, love. Indeed they are."

The leaves of the trees were painted in bright, stunning colours. Colours that reminded all who saw them of a blazing sunset. A few leaves fell as they walked. As the distance of their walk grew, Y/N found her breath coming shorter and harsher. The ache in her lower regions had not yet subsided and had spread to her legs. "Can we pause a moment?" She asked, laying a hand on his arm.

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded and smiled faintly. "My legs are hurting a little and I'm a little short of breath. I simply need to rest for a moment, you can go on without me."

Loki looked scandalised at the very suggestion. "I think not," he replied, making her laugh. "They will no doubt wonder where you are and I am not leaving you for even a moment."

"I will be okay," she assured him, giving him a quick kiss. "Take the twins, I know you will keep them safe."

"I don't like this," Loki murmured, worry creeping into his voice. "I do not like this at all."

"I will be along shortly," Y/N promised, taking his free hand in both of hers and hugging them close. "My body just needs to pause for a little while. I swear, I will follow as quickly as I can."

"I still do not like this," he muttered, his hold on her tightening and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "I really do not."

Y/N sighed and looked up, cradling his face with both hands. "Everything will be okay, my love. You will see."

"Let us hope you are right," the Prince murmured before swooping down for a kiss.

Smiling against his lips, Y/N responded with equal enthusiasm.

When at last they broke apart, she knelt to be level with the sleeping twins. "I will see you soon my angels," she whispered and spared a kiss for each of them. "Be good and keep your father out of trouble."

"Will you be long?" Loki asked as she rose.

"I cannot say," she replied and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "But I will hurry back to you as soon as I am able. I promise you that."

After making sure she was settled against the base of a tree, the Prince reluctantly took his leave. He cast one last glance over his shoulder and saw that her eyes had already fallen shut as she fought to regulate her breathing.

The roughness of the tree bark did not matter to her, she barely felt it as she focused on her breathing. In truth, she was exhausted. Her legs had been struggling to carry her for some time after they had left the cottage and her lungs had been struggling too. The pain had dulled to a throb and she counted her blessings while she still could.

The soft rustling of the wind in leaves above her helped to calm her. A smile curved her lips as she thought back on the events of the last few days. The twins had been born healthy and safe and blessing of all blessings, Loki had been there. Her heart warmed at the memory of him with both twins in his arms. It was a picture she would carry around with her, always.

"I was right," she whispered to the tree.

"Talking to trees now are we?"

She jumped at the sound of the familiar voice so close and saw Jörmungandr curled around one of the lower branches. 

"In your absence, I had to seek out new friends," she replied, smirking. "But now that you've returned, I suppose you'll do." 

Feigning hurt, the serpent slid down and plopped down around her shoulders. "I suppose you'll do too." 

Y/N chuckled softly and kissed his nose. "I'm glad you're here, Jorgi. Really I am." 

"As am I," he whispered and settled against her collarbone. "I heard what you said to him, are you sure you're alright?" 

She nodded and leaned back against the tree. "I spoke the truth. I will be ready to go soon, the villagers will no doubt be giving him no peace at all." 

Jörmungandr hissed softly in laughter.  


"Come," she said, using the tree for support to stand. "Let us go." 

As she neared the village, she felt it. She smelt it. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Looking down at her mark, she saw that its appearance had not changed. Still, she felt no relief. 

Walking as fast as her legs could carry her, she stumbled into the settlement and gasped. A conflict of sorts had occurred. A trembling hand rose to cover her mouth as she surveyed the damage done. Small fires burnt here and there, some of the buildings were partially collapsed. 

"What in the Nine happened here?" Jörmungandr whispered, aghast. 

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her heart thundered and fear clenched its fist around her lungs. When at last she spoke, it was but one word and it came out as a croak. "Loki?" 

When she received no answer, she tried again. Louder this time, her voice shaking violently. "LOKI?" 

Still nothing, at least not from him. One of the villagers approached her, sporting a gash to the shoulder, but appearing not to pay it any mind. 

"Where is he?" Y/N asked desperately. "Where are they? Where is my family?" 

The young man only shook his head. "I am so sorry, Mistress." 

"Sorry?" She repeated, "why? What happened here? Where are they?"

With one word, her world shattered. "Gone."

"No," she choked out, stumbling backwards, tears spilling down her cheeks. "They can't be. How can they be?" 

"Four of them there were," the villager explained, his eyes sad. "A blond one. A large one with the reddest beard I've ever seen, one dark haired one that carried a mace-" 

She shook her head, "no," she said, cutting him off. "No, please no." She knew well who they were. 

"And a dark skinned one, he was taller than the first three." 

A look of horror entered her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she gripped the sides of her head and fought to keep from screaming. "Brother?" She whimpered. "Brother, why would you do this?" 

"His Highness fought them off as best he could, always shielding the children with his magic and body." 

Her lips trembled as her mind's eye conjured the image. "Where are they?" She asked again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, where is my family?" 

"Gone. The four men took them. They blew a strange blue dust in His Highness's face and he stumbled for a moment before collapsing, unconscious." 

A sharp, loud gasp tore from her lips. Shaking her head, she stumbled backwards before turning around and made to take a few steps before collapsing in a heap. "No," she whimpered, shaking her head again and again. "No, no, NO!" 

Around her the villagers gathered, hearts tearing at her grief. 

A cry of agony ripped from her as she curled in on herself, clutching where her heart had once been. Her nails dug through the layers of clothing and clawed at her chest. By all the Valar! She had been so stupid to believe that they were safe. That Sigyn wouldn't try something. 

A howl of grief and fury came next and with it, a burst of seidr that shook the village and indeed, the entire country. The sounds her broken soul made reached the heavens, while her magic shook the earth. 

~ ~ ~ 

Norns! His head hurt. Wincing, Loki forced his eyes open and immediately recoiled. Memories slammed into him, memories of the fight and the ultimate need to protect the children. _Their_ children. 

A quick look around told him all he needed to know. The chambers he had once seen as home, now revolted him. Where was Y/N? Where were the children? 

His observation of the room came to a halt when he saw Sigyn at the foot of the bed, crouching by a wooden cradle, cooing softly. 

"There, there my darlings," she murmured. "Sleep now, mama is here." 

That did it for him. Even from where he was, he could hear their tiny whimpers and they broke his heart. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his head, Loki shot up from the bed and promptly placed himself between the cradle and Sigyn. "Get away from my children," he hissed. 

" _Your_ children?" She asked, laughing softly and standing. "I think you mean, _our_ children?"

"No," Loki replied, shaking his head. "They are _mine._ They are _hers._ They will never, ever be yours." 

Sigyn narrowed her eyes. "I am their mother," she said, lifting her chin. "Now let me comfort them." 

"You will not touch them. You will not go near them." 

"I think you'll find that I will. The whole realm is in celebration of their birth. They will wish to see us, as a family." 

"That will never happen," he snarled. "You stole them from their mother. Something you will never be." 

A flash of hurt crossed her features before they settled into a cold smile. "Move aside, husband. My children need me." 

"No," he said simply and held up a hand, a hand that clenched into a fist. "No, they don't." He looked on, with an eerie calmness as Sigyn knelt, clutching her throat, gasping for air. Turning at once, he bent down and scooped up the whimpering twins, holding them close. "Shhhh," he soothed, rocking them gently. "Shhh, my angels. Shhh, I am here. Papa is here." 

From her position kneeling on the carpet, Sigyn watched him. The way he held them and spoke with them. 

"There we go," Loki praised softly as they calmed down, settling against him. "Don't you worry, little ones. We will see mama again soon." 

"Mama is here," Sigyn said, standing and reaching for Ayla. "Come to mama." 

Without missing a beat, Loki turned way from her, taking the twins with him as he settled by the windows. 

Sigyn remained frozen where she stood. Her eyes followed him and her blood boiled. Never had she known him, the Prince of Lies and Deceit, to shield and protect anyone with his own body. Never had she thought he would be so determined to anger her. 

She watched as he held them close, murmuring softly and occasionally pausing to kiss their crowns. She watched as they nuzzled close to him, their little shoulders relaxing as though they felt at peace in his presence. 


	49. End of the tether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is absolutely terrifying the kind of deep suffering the happiest looking people are able to hide inside themselves. 
> 
> ~ Nikita Gill (Suffering In Silence)

"Sir? There is an incoming call from London."

"London?" Fury asked, looking away from the view of New York spread out below him. Stark Tower, aptly renamed the Avengers Tower, gave one a stunning view of the city.

"Indeed Sir," came the reply. "Rather urgent too, from the sounds of it. They are refusing to speak with anyone who isn't you."

"Patch it through would you? And assemble the team, they may want to be here for this."

The moment the agent left, Fury turned back to the city scape. They had not heard from their people in England for quite some time. What could possibly have happened for them to contact SHIELD headquarters so urgently?

He barely registered it as the Avengers filed into the room behind him. The window before him darkened as the call was put through.

"What is it boss?" Tony asked from behind him.

"Why the urgency?" Barton piped up, "should we call for Thor to come?"

Fury shook his head. "Let's see what they want first before we enact any measures."

There was a hum of murmured agreement from the group and Fury nodded to the agent that stood beside the dark window. Soon the face and voice of their English associate came through.

"Good afternoon, Agent."

"Morning, actually," the young man corrected. "But that is of little consequence now Director."

"What is this call all about?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms.

The agent briefly narrowed his eyes at her before continuing. "There was a disturbance not too long ago, just a few hours ago in fact. We have sent a team over to investigate the source."

"What manner of disturbance?"

"A burst of hostile energy," the agent explained. "Reports came in, saying that it was felt right across the country."

The Avengers shared a worried glance and looked to the Director.

"Where did it come from?" Fury asked. "Do you know the location?"

The agent nodded. "Indeed we do, Sir. A remote village in Northern England. Any more than that? We don't know."

"Was there any damage done by the outburst?" Steve asked.

The agent nodded and smiled grimly. "Unfortunately. I am indeed surprised that you have not seen it on the news reports."

"Is it that serious?" Tony asked, eyes widening.

"I'm afraid so," was the reply. "No one knows if this was simply a one-off or if there are more to come."

"What is the scope of the damage?" Fury asked, folding his arms.

"Very severe, Sir. But luckily there were no casualties."

Fury nodded and muttered a few words under his breath before looking to the agent again. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, a team of our own will be sent over. We can never be too careful."

"Right you are, Sir."

With that, the screen darkened and became windows again.

"Are we off to England then?" Bucky asked from where he stood beside Steve.

"It would see so," Fury replied.

"How do we know that this isn't some trick?" Tony demanded. "To lure us out onto foreign soil and try to take us down."

"Stark," Fury warned him. "This is purely an investigation for the moment. I am sure that you and the rest of the team are fully equipped and able to handle yourselves should anything arise. Now, I suggest you all prepare yourselves. The jet will be ready to leave within the hour."

~ ~ ~

She was past weeping. No tears left her eyes as she wandered through the garden. The basket beside her was filled with a plethora of blooms, all too colourful and bright for her. The sun that day felt harsher than usual, even for the cool months that were approaching. All around her, the leaves fell from the towering trees, only to be stirred again by the breeze.

She had lost count of the ways she had tried to locate the hidden passages Loki had told her of. The mere thought of him made a small whimper escape and she held the shears a little tighter. If only she hadn't insisted on going for that damned walk! If only she had listened to him. The twins would still be with her and he would too.

So she lost herself. She lost herself in the fantasy of what would have happened, of the life that could easily have been theirs. Her eyes were glazed over as she watched the scenes play out before her, the shears falling to the grass with a dull thud.

From his place in one of the trees, Jörmungandr watched her. What more could be taken from her? She had lost everything now, nothing remained in her possession that was truly hers. Her happiness at the birth of the twins could never be equaled. The love in her eyes as she had gazed at her little family could never be quantified or replaced. The sight of her kneeling amongst the wreckage of the village would never leave him. 

No one knew how long she had knelt there. Only that, when she finally looked up, her eyes were filled with a look that made everyone want to run. The dangerous combination of grief and a seething fury swam in her e/c eyes. 

Now, she sighed and let hers shoulders fall. Shaking her head, she came closer to him until she stood beneath his branch. Reaching up, she held out her arm and waited silently for him to slither down. The moment he lay curled around her shoulders, she turned and left the garden behind. 

They did not pass through the village. Instead, she skirted around. Where they were headed, Jörmungandr could only guess. He did not dare to ask.

She was silent for the duration of their walk. Her mind no doubt lost in the recent past and no small amounts of self blame. It wasn't until she ducked under a particular tree that Jörmungandr finally knew what her destination was. He himself had not been there in quite some time and took the chance to look around, his eyes catching on a brief flash of something blue and red before it disappeared. 

Blinking, he shook his head and focused forward. Y/N had at last come to a stop. 

They were alone,  Jörmungandr noticed that first. Second, how very still and quiet it was. The cool of Autumn did not invade this space, as though an unseen barrier kept it out. Before them a spring bubbled gently. A spring of intricate design and taller than she. 

Gone were her measured steps as she stumbled towards it and collapsed to her knees by the edge of the shallow pool. Her shoulders heaved as she breathed in deep, as though trying to calm herself. Her hands shook where they were braced against the pool's stone edge. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the stone. Her jaw was clenched tight and her eyes were squeezed shut. Small whimpers escaped her clamped lips before she gave up all together and cried out. 

The sound echoed around the small glade. Her tears fell into the pool below and caused little ripples to form, distorting her reflection. There was no anger to her now. What Jörmungandr saw now was something he had never hoped to see. She was broken. She had been broken well beyond the limits of the body. She did not look down, she kept her eyes closed as she wept. Her whole body shook rather violently and her breaths soon came in ragged gasps. 

Slithering from her shoulders, Jörmungandr wound himself around her right arm and gently nuzzled her cheek. He needed her to know he was there with her. He needed her to know she wasn't alone. 

It was this small action that opened her eyes. She looked down at him and attempted a smile and when she made to speak, he shook his head. "You don't need to say anything," he whispered. "Just know that I'm here. That you have me." 

She simply nodded and lifted a trembling hand to lightly stroke his head. The crack of a branch behind them had her freeze mid-action. Pushing herself to her feet, she turned around to face the visitor. 

She hissed upon seeing them. Standing there, at least having the grace to look guilty. Oh she knew who they were and she was in no mood to deal with them at present. 

"What do you want?" She asked wearily. 

"To speak with you," the red haired woman replied. "About the surge of hostile energy that was reported to have come from here." 

"Hostile?" Y/N repeated softly to herself. 

"Was it you?" The same woman asked. 

"What makes you think it was me?" Y/N asked, not bothering to wipe the tears away. The dried ones had begun to itch and she resisted the urge to scratch away at them. 

"Our research into the incident lead us to you," a man in spectacles answered. "The energy burst bore the same signature that you are giving off now." 

"Mortals," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she glared at the group before her. Gone was her tired, weary demeanor. "Always poking their noses where they don't belong." 

As a group they stepped back as she summoned a blade. 

"Can you not see that I am in no mood to answer your petty questions?" She demanded. "I have lost _everything_! The last thing that was mine has been taken and you stand here, interrogating me!" Hot, angry tears spilled down her cheeks and her grip on the dagger tightened. "Can you not see that I am grieving?!" She shrieked, flinging the dagger straight for the group. They parted down the middle to avoid getting skewered. With wide eyes, they regarded her. 

As it lodged itself into the tree behind them, she rounded on them, already having summoned another. "Call him," she commanded, holding the blade mere inches from the first speaker's throat. 

"Who?" Said another man, deftly taking off a pair of expensive sunglasses. 

"Your friend," she sneered. "The one who calls himself a god." 

"You know Thor?" The man in spectacles asked, surprised. 

"Unfortunately," Y/N replied and inched the blade closer. "Now, call him." 

"Why the hell should we do as you say?" The man with the sunglasses demanded. 

She simply smiled and then, there was no longer simply one of her. Each clone held a blade, a very real and very sharp blade. "I don't need to give you a reason," she replied. "You just need to call him." The blades now rested against their throats. _"Now."_

"Who the hell are you even?" The man asked. "Some kinda girl version of Loki?"

She laughed then. A fond smile curved her lips at the mention of the raven-haired Prince. She startled the group with her laughter, laughter that soon became tears before she righted herself and let her blades dig in a little, making each of them wince. _"Call him,"_ she hissed. "I care not how you do it. Just do it. _Now."_

Her clones watched them closely and when a rumble of thunder tore through the sky, her eyes hardened. Even more so when, not ten feet from them, the bifrost thundered down, bringing the thunder god with it.

"My friends," he called, upon seeing them. "What-" he stopped as he laid eyes on her. "Y/N?"

She smiled nastily as her clones disappeared. "Remember me do you?" She sneered, her scarred features contorting.

"Thor, who is this?" One of the men spoke up from behind her.

Thor paid them no mind. His eyes were trained solely on her. "You had them call me," he said to her. "Why?"

"Because you will take me back," she explained. "Every other way is blocked to me. So, you will take me back. That is the least you could do, _Your Highness."_

Behind her, the Avengers glanced at each other in surprise. Never had they heard someone speak to Thor this way. Who was this scarred, crazed woman?

"The least I could do?" Thor repeated, incredulous. "Have you forgotten with whom you speak?" Lightning flashed in the distance and the sky darkened with his words.

"I wish I had," she shot back. "But how could I possibly forget the one who gave the order to have me branded? The one who stood over me, whip in hand while my skin hung off my back in tatters? The one who is responsible for the death of my family?" Her glare was downright poisonous. "Oh believe you me, _my Prince,_ I wish I had forgotten you."

"Thor," Bruce asked, earning a warning look from his team mates. "Just who is she?"

"Yes, Thor," she said, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. "Who am I? Go on, do tell them. Tell them how you all but denounced me for a traitor for my simple act of wearing another's face to take my injured brother's place in the army. Tell them how you had me thrown in the dungeons after I had restored the shattered shield. Tell them how you betrayed you own brother with his wife. Tell them how you stood by and watched as my home was razed to the ground and how my family was murdered for the mere fact of being related to me. Tell them how you had me silenced with metal thread."

"Thor?" Clint piped up, disbelief colouring his words. "What is she saying?"

"What am I saying?" She repeated. "What am I saying Thor? It's the truth isn't it? The truth behind the golden, heroic mask you wear here on Midgard. The ugly, twisted truth. The one that has never seen the light. They call your brother evil. They call him dark. They name him cold and cruel." Pausing, she shook her head. "Yet, somehow, as time passes, I cannot help but believe that you might be better suited to those titles."

"How dare you?" Thor snarled, raising his hammer. "You forget your place."

"My place?" She asked, and pointed to her neck. "I am no longer subservient to anyone. Least of all her. That thief."

"What did you call her?" The Prince asked, his tone dropping to a warning.

Y/N lifted her chin. "A thief," she repeated defiantly. "Shall I say it again? And shall I add liar to the list?"

"She is neither," Thor replied, eyes narrowing. "Simply because you have been cast out does not mean she is to blame."

"Cast out? I wasn't cast out, I left."

"Why?"

"Why indeed?" Y/N murmured. "Because she was a threat. Because she threatened what little I had left. But now, she has them anyway."

"Has who?"

"My children," she replied, meeting the Prince's gaze. "And their father."

"Why would Sigyn be interested in your children when she has her own?" Thor asked. "And why do you speak as though I know their father?"

"Because he is your brother," she snapped. "And those precious children of hers? They do not belong to her, they are mine."

"This is treasonous talk, Y/N. I know my brother claims to love you, but he would never betray his wife in such a manner."

At this, she laughed. "You speak as though you did not sleep with her behind his back," she hissed, the laughter dying. "She will never be a mother, no matter how many children she takes."

"They are not yours," he insisted. "They are hers."

"Oh, are they? Do they have dark hair like their father?" Y/N asked, folding her arms. "And their eyes, what colour are they? Hazel like hers? Green like his? Or neither?" She smiled as her words began to sink in. "And their ears. Rounded like hers and their father's? Or pointed? Let me guess, she dismissed it all as a birth defect? Am I right?"

Thor said nothing. He simply stared at her.

"She will never be a mother, Thor," Y/N continued. "Never."

"Lies," he spat, the word itself like poison.

"Fine," she sighed and let her arms drop to her sides. "Don't believe me. Leave me here. Return to your lofty palace. But in time, you will see that my words are the truth."

With a final snarl in her direction, the Prince turned on his heel and made for the mark the bifrost had left.

"If this is how Asgard treats her defenders," Y/N murmured, "then I am not surprised that her forces are dwindling. For who would want their good deeds mistaken?"

Her soft words reached him and had him look to her. There was a moment where she believed his mind to change, but before she could so much as run to him, the bifrost came and swallowed him whole. By the time she reached the marker, he was gone.

A scream of frustration tore from her lips as she looked up to the clear sky.

"I will find a way," she swore softly. "I will find a way to you, my darlings."

_"I know you will, my love. I will come for you."_

Tears of disbelief and joy distorted her vision at the sound of that beloved voice. "Loki," she whispered, smiling up at the cloudless sky. "Loki."

_"My angel."_

The forgotten Avengers watched with dawning horror as she spoke the Dark Prince's name, whispering it to herself. Was she the one Thor had spoken of? The one Loki had disappeared through a portal to visit? It was clear she bore similar abilities to him, did that make her a threat?


	50. Looking at heaven...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wear your broken pieces beautifully.
> 
> ~ Atticus

He regretted it as soon as the decision was made. Consoling himself with the fact that he would not be gone from them long, Loki slipped out from the palace library, a small stack of books held close.

Even though the material in the books was a little too advanced for them to understand, the Prince had taken to reading to them. The poor darlings had been restless ever since they woke up on Asgard. Comforted by the sound of his voice they were and would only sleep soundly if he held them or was nearby.

In the distance, the bifrost heralded his brother's return.

He paid little mind to the servants and guards he passed. The sooner he returned the better, he could not run the risk allowing Sigyn even one moment with the twins. As he neared the chamber however, he knew something was wrong. He stopped short when voices drifted out to him. Casting a spell of concealment, he entered the rooms.

"Look how soundly they sleep," Thor murmured, looking fondly down at the twins. The children lay curled close together in the farthest corner of the cradle.

"Indeed," Sigyn replied softly and reached down to lightly stroke Ayla's cheek. Even at the slight contact the little girl whimpered in her sleep. A sound that tore at her father's heart as he watched the scene unfold. "Hush now Gisèle," the Princess murmured, reaching down and scooping up the child.

The cries of a woken child soon shattered the peace of the room and her father's patience. Breaking the enchantment, he stepped forward.

"Brother?" Thor asked, surprised at Loki's sudden appearance.

Without a word, the younger Prince stepped past him and swiftly took his daughter in his arms. The gentleness with which he held her and spoke to her demanded Thor's curiosity. Beside them in the cradle, the little Prince had noticed his sister's absence.

Thor looked sidelong at Sigyn and found her to be watching the scene before them with barely a change to her expression.

As Ayla calmed in his arms and snuggled into the crook of his neck, Loki knelt down beside the cradle and extended his free hand. One of Vídarr's flailing hands caught hold of his thumb and latched on. "There now, my sweet boy," the god crooned. "Everything is going to be alright." Knowing full well that the moment he let go his son would start crying again, Loki made to lift him.

"Brother, allow m-" Thor found himself silenced with a glare from his brother.

With the aid of magic, he lifted his son and held him the way he held Ayla. He felt the boy's tears soak into the material of his collar. Without so much as a word to either Thor or Sigyn, he strode past them and settled by the hearth.

"He's very protective of them," Sigyn explained to a stunned Thor. "They are everything to him."

"I can see that," the elder Prince murmured. "It gladdens me to see him take this new role seriously."

"Indeed," she muttered, eyes never leaving her husband.

A knock on the door startled the pair.

"Enter," Sigyn called softly and was surprised when who should step through, but the Queen herself.

"Mother," Thor greeted and was rewarded with a warm smile from her.

"Is your brother here?" Frigga asked, looking around.

Thor made to answer when Loki beat him to it. "Just over this way, mother."

Nodding to both Sigyn and Thor, Frigga swept past them both and made her way to where her younger son sat by the fireside. She settled beside him and waited for the chamber doors to close before speaking. "I did not expect to see you back so soon."

"I did not expect to be back so soon," Loki replied, adjusting Vídarr against him, causing the boy to snuffle in his sleep.

A moment of silence passed before Frigga spoke again. "They are beautiful," she said softly, eyes trained on the twins. "A perfect combination of you both."

"They should be with her," he murmured. "Not here. Never here." Closing his eyes, he took a breath before looking to his mother again, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. A faint smile played at his lips. "She was so happy. So relieved that they had been born healthy. The tears she had wept in pain became ones of joy when she first beheld them. Like nothing else could possibly matter more in that moment."

"How long was the labor?" Frigga asked, making sure to keep her voice down for the sake of the slumbering twins.

"Almost fourteen hours," he replied.

"Where you there?"

Loki nodded. "I could not have been anywhere else."

Frigga smiled fondly. "May I?" She whispered, nodding to little Vídarr.

The Prince nodded and oh so very carefully passed the sleeping boy to his grandmother. "Who is the elder one?" She asked, curling her arms securely around him.

Loki smiled at the sight and did the same for Ayla. "He is," he answered. "And this little one," he said, looking down to Ayla, "came not a minute later."

"She wanted to be with her brother."

Loki nodded, "Y/N said much the same."

Vídarr, it seemed, did not mind in the slightest being held by his grandmother. Much like his sister did with their father, he snuggled his head into the crook of Frigga's neck, his tiny hands curled under his cheek. Frigga felt her heart warm at the sight and looked over to her son. Loki was staring ahead at the fire, his cheek resting gently against his daughter's crown as his free hand rubbed soothing patterns on her back. It would have made for a peaceful picture, had one element not been missing.

The little girl slept soundly against her father, her small hand curled in the emerald fabric of his tunic.

"The way she looked at me," Loki whispered, softly breaking the silence. "I had never imagined anyone would look at me like that. Up until that moment, I did not believe that that strength of love existed. She had been watching us from where she lay on the bed," he smiled in memory. "The three of us had woken before her and were sitting beneath one of the windows when she woke. When she called to me, calling my name softly, I do believe my heart skipped more than a few beats. Norns, mother-" he broke off and looked to Frigga. "She was so happy. We were so happy. Her smile reached her eyes and made them sparkle."

Holding Vídarr close with one arm, Frigga reached out with her free hand and took hold of his. "You will see her again," she swore and looked to the children. "They will see her again," she smiled through the tears she felt well up. "I promise you."

"She will no doubt be blaming herself," Loki murmured, looking to their joined hands and then back to the fire. "Flogging herself for what happened."

"But why?" Frigga asked with no small degree of alarm.

"She had insisted on going for a walk and no matter how hard I tried to dissuade her, she remained fixated on the idea."

"The abduction happened during the walk?"

Loki nodded and sighed. "She had stopped to rest and told me to take the twins and carry on to the village."

A look of realisation entered Frigga's grey eyes. "That is what she will blame herself for?" She whispered, feeling a tear break free.

He nodded and looked down, first to Ayla and then to Vídarr. "I need to tell her that she is not to blame," he said, a tremor to his voice. "That this is not her doing or her fault in any way." Pausing, he took a breath that trembled as he released it. His eyes were closed, and yet one lone tear leaked through. "I need-" his words were cut off as he swallowed hard in an obvious effort for control. "I need _her,"_ he whispered at last, meeting his mother's gaze. "By the Norns! I need her."

Frigga felt her heart break at the tremble in his voice and the vice grip on her hand. "As she needs you," she said in gentle reply.

"Why?" He asked in a broken whisper, "why does everything I love have the tendency to be taken away from me?"

Those words lanced right through her heart. "Oh my boy," she murmured, untangling their hands to swipe away his tears. How she wished for the right words to say, yet none would come. She met his pleading, vulnerable gaze with a soft smile.

"A god of chaos is not meant to know peace," he said, holding her gaze. "Is that why?"

Frigga shook her head and took his hand again. "No," she replied. "No."


	51. Pulled apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wore a smile like a loaded gun. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

"What is she?" Pietro asked his sister in a hushed tone.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asked, her eyes never leaving the woman in the cell before them.

"Well," her brother explained, following his sister's line of sight. "She's not exactly human. Is she like Thor?"

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip and folded her arms. "From what I've seen? She's something else entirely. I can't seem to enter her mind at all. Despite those cuffs, she's somehow managing to block me."

"So......dangerous?" Pietro murmured, eyeing the prisoner.

His sister sighed heavily and nodded, "very."

"Has she done anything? Said anything?" Tony asked, sidling up to the twins. "Or has she stayed as a statue?"

"Statue," the twins replied in unison, earning an amused look from Tony.

"It's kinda creepy," Natasha remarked, separating herself from the shadows, Clint following suit. "The way she's just sitting there, staring at nothing."

"Yeah," Clint murmured. "Especially after what we've seen of her. Kinda reminds me a little too much of someone else though."

The assembled all hummed in agreement.

Movement from the cell snapped their attention to the silver snake that was at present wrapped loosely around her wrists. It had turned its head to look at them, forked tongue flicking in and out.

"Anyone else really not like that snake?" Tony muttered.

"Is it like her pet or something?" Wanda asked, fingers drumming against her folded arms. 

"Probably," Clint replied. "Though, with someone who has affiliations like she does? I wouldn't be surprised if her tastes ran similar."

"Either way, I don't like it," Tony announced, earning nods from the group. "Or her for that matter. She gives me the creeps."

"Did Thor end up saying what she was?" Natasha asked, "you know, as in species. Because I'm sure as hell that she's not Asgardian nor whatever the hell Loki is."

"He did, actually, yeah."

"Well?" Pietro pressed. "What is she?"

"According to Thor," Tony replied. "She's something called a Light Elf. Very elegant beings who can come across as quite arrogant."

"Light Elf?" Clint repeated and looked to be fighting a smirk. "Sounds like a fairy to me."

Beside him, Natasha snorted.

_"I suggest you all stop speaking as though I am not present."_

A collective shiver ran through the group as they turned as one to look at the prisoner. For that was her voice that echoed in their ears. Yet, she had not moved. She gave no indication that she had spoken at all or that she knew them all to be staring at her.

"Was that you?" Tony asked, eyes narrowed.

"How could it possibly have been her?" Pietro asked, gesturing to the ornate cuffs she wore. "She's wearing those things."

"You heard it too," Tony shot back. "So don't go defending her."

"I'm not defending anyone," Pietro replied, holding his hands up as though in surrender.

In the cell, she smiled as their bickering filtered through to her. The smile disappeared before anyone could so much as catch a glimpse. 

_"If you have had your fill of gawking, do feel free to leave."_

The calm voice sounded again and Clint sneered in her direction. "The fairy even talks like him," he hissed. 

The shape of something standing by the glass made them all jump in surprise. The sound of nails scraping against the glass set their teeth on edge. "Come a little closer," she purred, one hand resting against the barrier. "Come and I will show you just how much of a fairy I am," her words were followed by a smile that immediately branded itself in their nightmares. The artificial lighting glinted off her teeth and brought into sharp relief their sharp points.

As a group they stepped back.

Her smile became a snarl and the hand against the glass curled into a fist. "Not so confident now, are we?" She snapped. "Do not presume to know everything about me because of what that brute has told you."

"We know enough," Tony replied and she laughed. Short and cold.

"You know _nothing_ ," she hissed.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"I am," she replied and stepped back until she sat on the sad excuse for a bed. "Tell me," she said, meeting their eyes. "Has he told you how I got this?" She pointed the scar on her cheek. "Or did he choose to omit that particular detail in case it would tarnish his golden image?"

"You really don't like him, do you?" Natasha murmured, folding her arms.

"What is it to you?" Y/N asked. "You have passed judgement on me already."

"You would be the first," Wanda explained. "Generally it's his brother that gets this reaction."

Y/N smiled sadly at her words and looked down at her hands. Twisting her wrists, she watched as the runes etched into the metal caught in the light. The same runes that were on the cuffs she had worn in Asgard.

"Why would you accuse him of all those things?" Natasha asked. "They all seemed pretty heavy."

When she finally looked up again, all the fight seemed to have left her. A haunted looked had crept into those e/c orbs of hers. "He is not the hero you all believe him to be," she said. "Perhaps he is, here on Midgard. But on Asgard?" A shudder passed through her and she inhaled shakily. "I saw the darker side of the golden prince."

"We all have a bit of a dark side," Tony spoke up. "Even Thor."

"How quickly you move to defend him," she sneered. "To make him out to be without fault. Yet, if I were to do the same for his brother, for Loki, I would be considered mad."

"He is a criminal," Clint snapped. "A war criminal at that. A mass murderer. You do not know what he did here."

The slam of her fist into the glass startled them all. "I know exactly what happened," she hissed. "All of the Nine know what happened. Do not think for one moment that I am ignorant of his actions here, _mortal._ "

"Yet you side with him," the archer replied coldly. "Why?"

"I need not explain myself to you," she snapped. "My words mean nothing to you. You hold them in as much value as though he had spoken them." 

"He got inside your head, didn't he?"

_"And my heart,"_ she almost said, but clamped her mouth shut. They would only mock her affections.

"He manipulated you," Clint continued in the face of her silence. "Didn't he?"

"Be glad, _mortal,"_ she whispered. "Be glad that there is glass separating us and these cuffs on my wrists. For in their absence, I would not hesitate to snap your neck like a twig. Do not speak of him in such a manner in my presence again."

"Oh?" Clint challenged. "And if I do?"

She said nothing. As the group watched, she lifted a hand and let the nail of her pointer finger drag across the glass. The bone scratched into the glass and what first appeared to be a random, nonsensical pattern, soon became a sequence. A series of four patterns that shimmered softly in the harsh lighting.

The sequence complete, she moved back until she sat on the bed, a small smile playing with her lips.

"What is that?" Tony demanded of her, stepping closer to see what she had written. "What have you defaced this glass with?"

She blinked up at him innocently, the smile never quite leaving. "Soon," she replied, "soon you will see."

"Your magic won't work here," Natasha pointed out.

"I know," Y/N murmured. "I know."

She didn't know when they left. When they finally left her in peace. Though peace was far from what she felt. From where she sat on the cot, she looked to the markings on the glass. Would it work? She prayed to Valar that it would.

The memories had come flooding back the moment they had snapped the cuffs on. As loathsome as they were, the Avengers had provided a much needed distraction from a past she would rather forget.

"They're coming back, aren't they?" Jörmungandr whispered, seeing the change in her demeanor. 

When she nodded, it was short and jerky. Her jaw was tightly clenched and her hands were almost into fists. "It is all so similar," she bit out. "Much too similar." 

"Closing your eyes won't help will it?" The snake asked hopefully. 

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head. "It will only make them worse." 

He hated seeing her like this. Trembling and on the verge of tears, her nails digging into her palm as she fought against the images that flooded her mind. Images and memories of her last imprisonment. Memories she had tried so hard to bury and forget. 

"I can feel it," she mumbled, "I can feel it all. The pain of the needle, the whip, the burning of the brand-" curling in on herself, she clutched her marred cheek. "Make them stop, Jorgi," she whispered desperately. "Make them go away." The pleading in her voice tore at his heart. _"Please."_

When Jörmungandr looked into her eyes, he knew she was far away as her mind tortured her. As she saw not the cell in the Avenger's Tower in New York, but her cell on Asgard. He was not there with her then, and he would be damned if he abandoned her now.   



	52. The Weeping Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips; maybe it was the voice of the rain crying, a cracked bell, or a torn heart. 
> 
> ~ Pablo Neruda

Peter was curious. No one had breathed a word to him about the new arrival. Every time he asked, they would cast worried glances at each other when they believed he wasn't looking. He knew it would be a challenge to convince FRIDAY to let him down there. The detention level. Only Mr.Stark and the other Avengers had clearance to go down there. He doubted very much that they would let him go there.

That was why he was currently crawling through the air conditioning shafts. Wearing the suit Mr.Stark had created for him, he made not a single noise. Creeping along the metal as soundlessly as his namesake. The shafts twisted and turned, they even went down a few times, causing him to almost slip and crash into the opposing wall. He blanched at thinking what the consequences would be, Aunt May was already reluctant with him spending so much time at the compound.

After what felt like a good few hours of crawling and looking through various different vents, he finally found it.

With teeth clamped down on his lip and eyes narrowed in concentration, he worked to open the vents just enough for him to slip through. Taking a deep breath, he nodded once to himself and slid through the opening, landing quietly on the metal walkway that led to the cells.

Slipping his mask off, he looked around. They were all empty. The bare glass rooms made him question his decision. Had he gotten it wrong? Was this new person not a threat after all? Peter was halfway to facepalming himself when he heard it. It was faint at first, but definitely there.

As quietly as he could, Peter padded closer, straining to catch more of the words.

_"Goodnight my angels_   
_Time to close your eyes_   
_And save these questions for another day_   
_I think I know what you've been asking me_   
_I think you know what I've been trying to say_   
_I promise I would never leave you_   
_And you should always know, I never will be far away..."_

He was sure he had never heard the like. Soothing and unbearably sad. And surely he had imagined it, but had the voice trembled? Sidling closer, he saw the very last cell. It was occupied by a young woman. She was sitting on the cot, rocking gently, her hands held to her chest.

_"Goodnight my angels, now it's time to sleep_   
_And still so many things I want to say_   
_Remember all the songs you sang for me_   
_When we went sailing on a emerald bay_   
_And like a boat out on the ocean_   
_I'm rocking you to sleep_   
_The water is dark and deep inside this mother's heart_   
_You'll always be a part of me..."  
_

There was a pause in the singing and Peter feared that perhaps she had noticed him. The momentary silence was broken by the soft gasp from her and Peter was sure he saw tears.

_"Goodnight my angels, now it's time to dream_   
_And dream how wonderful your lives will be_   
_Some day a child may cry and if you sing this lullaby_   
_Then in your heart there will always be a part of me."  
_

As the words faded, she curled in on herself and her whole body began to shake. Even from where he stood, he could hear them. The sobs that wracked her entire frame. Never before had he heard such a broken sound.

It was a slight shift of movement from him that had her head whipping up. Was this who Mr.Stark and the Avengers were so scared of? This young woman who appeared as though she had wept her heart out? Who took trembling breaths as she silently regarded her visitor. The one who stood on less-than-sure legs to shuffle over to him.

"Who are you?" She asked in a soft voice. Her breathing was stuttered from the crying.

"Peter," he replied, eyes locking onto the cuffs on her wrists. "Peter Parker. Might I ask who you are?"

She said nothing at first, but then she sighed, her entire frame slumping as the air left her lungs. It looked to be a miracle that her legs didn't collapse beneath her. "Did they send you?" She asked, her reddened eyes narrowing.

He shook his head. "They wouldn't even let me down here," he replied and looked over his shoulder nervously. "I only hope Mr.Stark doesn't find out."

Her e/c eyes hardened briefly at the mention of the billionaire. "Are you one of them?" She asked, leaning against the glass for support. She noticed he didn't step away.

"SHIELD or the Avengers?"

"Both."

Peter nodded and shrugged. "I suppose both then, but Mr.Stark says I'm still a little too young to be a proper Avenger."

"And here you are," she murmured. "Breaking all the rules. Why?"

"I was curious," he replied. "They tell me nothing and expect me to be okay with it."

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?" She asked wearily.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know who you are or why they all seem to be so scared of you."

"Y/N," she whispered, "my name is Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated softly to himself. "That's a nice name."

This brought on a small smile. "Thank you." Her knees finally gave way and she sunk to the floor.

Peter dropped to his knees beside the glass. "What did you do to end up here?"

When she met his gaze, her lips were trembling and her eyes were welling with tears again. She quickly blinked them away and sighed, resting her cheek against the glass. "I was angry."

"What about?" He asked, shifting to sit on the floor.

"A few things," she replied. "So many things. So very many things."

"Like?" He prompted kindly.

"The theft of my children," she whispered, taking Peter by surprise.

"Are those the ones you were singing to?"

She nodded and smiled, eyes shining with tears and memories. "We were so happy. Everything was perfect. They were born happy and healthy. The mere sight of them was enough to make me forget the pain." Even though she blinked, a few stray tears made their way through. "Holding them against me completed me."

"There was more than one?"

Y/N nodded. "Twins," she replied. "A boy and a girl. They were so beautiful, so utterly perfect. Their birth was the only time I ever saw their father cry and when he held them," she paused and held a hand to her heart. "They became his world. His universe. I knew he would do anything to keep them safe. While I held our son, he held our daughter. I can still see it now," she gasped, "her head over his heart and her little fists curled into-" emotion overwhelmed her and swallowed her words, the hand on her chest now covering her mouth. Her eyes were closed as she wept.

Though he did not know her, Peter wanted to comfort her. He did not know pain like this existed.

When she looked up, there was a desperation in her eyes. A desperation that tore at his heart with its intensity. "I just want them back," she whimpered. "I just want them back in my arms. All three of them."

"Why were they taken away?"

"Jealousy," she replied softly.

"Whose?"

"His wife's," Y/N murmured, not having the strength to speak louder. "She's barren."

"He's married?" Peter asked, shocked.

Y/N nodded.

"Who is he?"

There was a challenge in her eyes when she answered. "Loki. I'm sure you know who he is."

Peter gasped softly. "Mr.Loki?"

She raised an eyebrow at the title but hummed in agreement.

"I met him," Peter replied, "when he and Mr.Thor came here."

"You met him?" She asked, looking him in the eye.

"I sure did," he continued, excitement making his eyes sparkle. "He showed me some cool tricks with his daggers. Took him a while to talk to me though."

"You don't fear him?" She whispered, emotion threatening to choke her. Her heart warmed at the thought.

Peter shook his head. "Nope. I mean, sometimes he did some scary things with his voice, but never to me. He even let me hold a dagger, but only for a little- why are you crying?"

She was smiling too. "Forgive me," she said, "but you are the first to speak of him this way. The rest of your team is set on hating him."

"I know what he did," Peter said and shrugged. "But that was a little while ago now."

"Indeed," she muttered. "Indeed."

"So he's the dad?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

The innocence in the question made her laugh softly.

"I'm serious," he protested, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"I know and I do," she replied. "But that means little to those here or back on Asgard."

"That mark on your face," Peter said, nodding to her cheek that was facing away from them. "Did you get that there?"

Y/N nodded. "It's not a pretty tale, Peter Parker. Much too dark and filled with pain for my liking.

"I suppose you won't want to talk about it then?" He asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Quite the contrary," she replied, earning wide eyes from him. "I have yet to tell my tale to anyone who would care to hear. But considering what I am, not many listen to what I have to say."

"I want to listen," Peter said, shifting closer. "I want to hear."

"Bless you, little one," she whispered. Coughing lightly, she cleared her throat. "It all started when the announcement came to the village..."

Peter listened with rapt attention as her words spun the scenes around them. Bloody battlefields and rumbling avalanches. The heartstopping chase across the Aesir countryside. The restoration of the shield and her imprisonment. The branding and the flogging, in which she omitted no detail. Peter flinched as she described it all. He could practically feel it all. Her exile to Midgard and Loki finding her. Her forced return to Asgard and her time as a thrall to Sigyn. She told it all. Even her family's murder at the hands of the Allfather and now, the theft of her children.

"Goodness," Peter breathed after she had finished. "No one, and I really mean that, should have to go through all that."

Y/N smiled grimly.

"This place must be giving you some wild flashbacks then huh?"

"That's one way of putting it," she mumbled.

"I am so sorry," he said putting a hand against the glass in a gesture of comfort.

"It is not your fault, little one," she replied, her eyes sad. "You didn't do all those things. You are not at fault." Seeing his hand, she lifted a trembling one and mirrored his actions. "You know," she murmured. "When my son grows up, I fervently hope for him to be like you. As gentle, as kind and as understanding as you."

Peter was taken aback. "Really?"

Y/N nodded. "I know Loki would too. Those he opens up to are few and very far between. If our Vídarr turned out to be like you, even if only a little bit, I am sure he would be most happy."

"Are you sure?"

Smiling softly, she rested her forehead on the cool glass. "Yes," she breathed. After a moment, she spoke again, "Thank you, Peter Parker."

"Whatever for?" He asked, confused. "I haven't done anything."

"Oh but you have," she said, lifting her head away from the glass to look at him. "There are not many who would listen to a convicted traitor."

"Wrongfully convicted," he corrected her gently. "You did nothing wrong and still got blamed for everything."

"You don't know me," she said. "For all you know, I could have spun you a lie to get you to speak _to_ me, not _about_ me."

"I know what a lie looks like," Peter replied, grinning. "And I saw only the truth when you spoke to me and told me your story."

"If only your teammates were more like you."

Peter laughed and shook his head, his eyes catching on a light glimmer on the glass above them. "What's that?"

She followed his gaze up and saw what he was looking at. "That," she murmured.

"What is it?"

"A name."

"Whose?" Peter asked, his curiosity returning full force.

"Whose indeed?" Y/N muttered.

Peter's eyes widened as a thought crossed his mind.

"You know, don't you?" She asked him, seeing the dawning realisation in his eyes.

The boy nodded slowly, his attention on the foreign lettering. "But why?"

"Names are powerful things, Peter Parker," she replied. "So much can be done with them. So much that even the great Tony Stark doesn't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of the lullaby belong to "Goodnight My Angel," as it is sung by Celtic Woman.


	53. The broken-hearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are all broken, that's how the light gets in. 
> 
> ~ Ernest Hemingway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of self loathing in the first part of the chapter, please be careful if this triggers you in any way.

He did not deserve to live. Faolán was convinced of that. What he had done haunted him, it followed him everywhere he went. Never more so than when he heard them cry the first time. He had been on patrol in the royal wing when he had heard them. The children, _her_ children. The children of the woman he had sworn to protect. They were here now because of what he had done.

Sigyn's enchantment had left him in charge of all his faculties, save for one. Her spell controlled what his body did, no matter how hard his mind fought against it. He flinched in memory of the Prince's face and the look in his eyes.

He really ought to be exiled to the icy, windswept wastelands of Jotunheim. He shamefully hoped never to see Y/N again, for how was he to face her? What was he possibly to say to her? Nothing in the Nine could make up for what had happened. He had only added to her suffering.

The Warriors Three avoided him like the plague once the enchantment had worn off. They did not have strength to confront him without Sigyn's magic to aid them.

He did not see where his feet had carried him until it was too late. The doors to the chambers were open, if only a little. The tiny sliver of space allowed Faolán to look into the rooms. The Princess was absent, much to his relief. The Prince, their father, was there however. From what Faolán could make out, the twins were sitting side-by-side on his lap as he himself was seated on the rich carpet. What was before them took his breath away.

A shimmering image of her. Y/N stood before the trio, smiling down at them.

The twins clapped at the sight of her, making their father chuckle and kiss their crowns. "That is your mother," he whispered, the words piercing the listening guard's heart, "your mamma."

It was her attire that alerted Faolán that this was a memory. The emerald gown that everyone had seen Sigyn wear. But now, seeing Y/N wear it, it made his memory of the Princess pale in comparison.

He watched the Prince speak with the twins, now three months old. A part of him was glad that he could not hear what the Prince was saying. His guilt was strong enough, he needed no more reminders. Though, he could not move. His feet remained fixed to the spot.

The image of her changed and now she was wearing something Faolán had only seen Lady Sif wear. Aesir armour covered her, save for the absence of the helmet. In her hands she held daggers. Her stance was defensive and her chin was raised in defiance, her e/c eyes daring her unseen attackers to advance.

"Your mamma saved my life," the Prince told the children, their eyes wide as they looked up at the memory. "She fought off more than six to keep me safe," from where he stood, Faolán could not see the shimmer of tears in the Prince's eyes and the fond smile that curved his lips. "Your mamma is one of the bravest people I know," he continued. "Second only to your grandmamma."

At last his feet obeyed him. Moving down the corridor, he barely held it together. Three long months had passed since that day. He knew that even eternity would not be long enough to forget. The Prince's words echoed in his mind.

Because of him they were robbed of their mother and brought to live with one who despised her. Because of him, she would not be the one to raise her children. To be the one to teach them the ways of life and how to survive the viper's nest that was the Aesir Court.

"I am not worthy to be your brother," he gasped out, leaning heavily against the wall of an alcove. Resting his forehead against the cool stone, he allowed himself to weep. He had failed her, failed her brother. He was not worthy of those he had made those vows to. "I know you cannot hear me, but I beg for your forgiveness. Forgive me for not being strong enough to fight the enchantment. Forgive me for not fighting harder for you."

As the stone dug into his skin, he closed his eyes.

_"No one will take them from you, not if I have anything say about it."_

Those were his words. His own vow to her and her unborn children. They mocked him now, taunting him with his failure. He could still hear it, her screams as she discovered what had happened. Sigyn had allowed him to hear them. They tore his world to shreds. He did not have to see her to know what she must have looked like. 

He did not feel worthy to even look at the children. The children he had helped to steal. The little he had seen of them today had been the first time he had laid eyes on them since that fateful day.

Faolán let out a heavy sigh. He and the Prince had not crossed paths, not that he wished for it. He knew well that the Prince knew who he was and what he meant to Y/N. There would be hel to pay should he even catch sight of him. Avoiding the trickster god was no easy task and Faolán had taken to looking over his shoulder every chance he got.

Upon leaving the alcove, he lifted his chin and looked ahead. The only one who knew the truth was the one the realm believed to be blameless.

~ ~ ~

Autumn was nearing its end and Sigyn sighed sadly. She would miss the vibrant colours of the leaves as they clung to the trees. In truth, she did not mind the winter. She simply missed the colour the other seasons bore.

A light breeze passed through the small garden, making her shiver and wish she'd worn a cloak.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, then a heavy fur-trimmed cloak was draped around her shoulders. "You should know better than to wonder out without a cloak during this time of year," Thor said, stepping into her line of sight.

Sigyn smirked and pulled the cloak tighter, "yes, well, I didn't foresee being out here long enough to get cold."

"Good thing I was passing by then," the older Prince replied, winking. "How are the children?"

A shadow passed over her features, but before Thor had time to regret asking, she answered. Her voice was calm enough, but each word was measured and carefully thought through. "They are well. They are growing so fast."

"Indeed they are," Thor agreed, moving to stand beside her as she admired the autumnal garden. "It seems like it was only yesterday that they came into the world."

The Princess hummed in agreement. Each passing day the twins only served to remind her of their absent mother. Their ears could easily be hidden by their rapidly growing hair, yet it was their eyes that provoked the most questions. They did not have Sigyn's hazel or Loki's green. But rather a curious e/c.

For a reason that continued to elude her, no illusion would stick. Whichever one she tried, it would slide right off.

"They are beautiful," the Prince murmured, drawing a small smile from his companion. "Just as I imagined they would be."

"Yes," Sigyn whispered, "yes they are." There was no denying it. They took after their parents in equal measure.

"How old are they now?"

"Three months," came the soft reply.

"Norns," Thor breathed, "how time flies."

A companionable silence settled over them. A silence only broken by the occasional bird that would dare to settle on the bare branches for even a moment. It was peaceful, at least for the moment.

"I have been meaning to tell you," Thor said, turning to face her. "Father received a message from Vanaheim this morning. It seems that your brother will be journeying here in a week's time."

"Iyan is coming?" Sigyn repeated. "But why didn't he tell me?"

Thor laughed. "I presume he wanted it to be a surprise. One I have just ruined."

Sigyn grinned. "Then I shall act most surprised when he arrives."

"Yes please," Thor chuckled. "Father will have my head on a platter if he finds out I ruined the surprise."

"If he finds out," she said, winking. "It will not be from me. I can promise you that. I can keep a secret."

"I am sure you can," Thor remarked, smiling.

As the day wore on, they found themselves meandering through the gardens. Each was a little more faded than the last. But none more so than the garden that bore the jasmine hedge. Stripped of its star-like blossoms and rich green foliage, it appeared as a skeleton of itself. The fountain at the centre bubbled merrily away and made Sigyn smile. A smile that soon faded as she remembered what Hogun had told her about this place.

About what he had seen and heard. So lost did she become in the memories that she did not hear Thor call her name.

"Sigyn?" He called again, this time tapping her on the shoulder.

Blinking, she shook herself back into the present. "Yes?"

"Where were you just now?" The Prince asked.

"Nowhere," she muttered. _'Only the moment when I found out that Y/N was carrying my husband's children.'_

"Come along then," Thor said, gesturing towards the maze's exit. "The sun is setting and the dining hall is being prepared." 

Nodding absently, she took his offered arm and left the maze behind.

~ ~ ~

It was not often that he would leave a clone with the twins. But Loki knew that his presence was required at dinner. His lack of progress at finding an alternate route to Midgard was eating away at him. He dared not ask his mother to try, no matter how much he might wish to.

Dismissing the nanny Sigyn had selected was done easily enough. The woman fled without argument and never came back.

Loki prayed that dinner would not be a long affair. The longer he was away from them, the more uneasy he felt. Through his double he would hear them and know if anything was amiss.

The dining hall was as crowded as ever and truth be told, he did not know how he got there. His mind was elsewhere, something the Queen soon noticed. Her gentle hand on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. "You seem more distracted than usual, darling," she whispered.

Loki shook his head and graced her with a smile, but she wasn't fooled. "I suppose I am," he muttered in defeat a moment later. "I have tried everything and still come up short."

"How often must I tell you that I am more than willing to help?" She said, raising an eyebrow. "Just this morning I-"

"I cannot possibly ask that of you, mother," Loki replied and smiled grimly. "We both remember what happened the last time you helped me."

The Queen nodded. "Aye," she murmured. "Only all too well, I'm afraid."

"I will not stay long tonight," he said in a hushed tone, casting a quick glance to where his wife sat.

"I know," Frigga replied, smiling knowingly. "Just like all the nights before this one. It is quite alright," she said, patting his hand. "The children are blessed to have you take such good care of them."

"They are mine," he said softly, staring down into the crimson contents of his goblet. "They are ours and in her absence I will do my utmost to care for them."

Frigga kept a close eye on her youngest for the duration of the night. Every so often he would look to the doors of the hall, his hands twitching a little before he forced them to still. Looking to make sure her husband was suitably distracted, she leaned close to her son. "Go," she whispered, "I see you looking to the doors every five minutes. Go and I will ensure your wife and father will not notice."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Loki smiled gratefully at his mother. "Thank you," he muttered in reply and pecked her lightly on the cheek before standing.

Frigga watched with a sad smile as the Prince wove his way through the crowds.

The corridors, though deserted save for the occasional servant or guard, were still well lit. The flickering light of the torches cast the halls in a warm light, casting him in shadow as he traced his way back to his chambers.

His eyes narrowed as he neared the royal wing. The guard on duty there was one he knew all too well. Stepping back into the shadows, he called forth a clone that proceeded to walk the path he had intended to take. He watched closely as the guard bowed stiffly, staunchly avoiding the eyes of the double. His grip on the pommel his sword tightened somewhat and only relaxed once the perceived Prince had completely passed him by.

From his place of concealment, he manipulated the light closest to him. The torch slowly spluttered and went out, not uncommon, but a bit of nuisance to those on guard duty.

Loki heard the guard heave a heavy sigh before marching his way over to the darkened torch. The moment he stepped out of the light, a hand lashed out from the shadows and snaked around his wrist. Startled, the guard floundered, but by the time he regained his senses, it was too late.

Faolán swallowed hard as his unseen attacker became visible in the light from the distant torches. The Dark Prince smiled at him, sending shivers along his spine.

A blade as cold as ice materialised in his hands and rested against the guard's throat. There was no space for him to move. He was like a rabbit, caught in the stare of its predator. "Faolán," he said, "it is time that you and I had a little chat. Don't you think?"


	54. Fallen but not defeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She smiled in defeat with unconquerable eyes. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it has been a while but.......I AM BACK BABY

Where they were, Faolán could only guess. He only knew one thing for certain, they no longer stood in the Palace halls where one might quite easily encounter them. It was dark, the only source of light came from the Prince himself. A small witchlight hovered close to him, casting his features in a light that were reminiscent of a creature of the underworld, ghoulish and haunting.

Neither spoke, each allowing the silence to grow in heaviness. It was silent, no ambient sound reached them, leading Faolán to wander where exactly they were.

When at long last the silence was broken, it was done so by the Prince. His voice was calm when he spoke, soft even. "I will admit to envy, the first time I saw her smile and laugh in your presence," he said, increasing the size of the light. In doing so, the rocky walls of a cavern were slowly revealed, a stone passage.

"Envy, Your Highness?" Faolán asked, confused.

"Indeed," Loki replied, canting his head to the side, as though examining the guard. "But when it became known to me what you meant to her, in what light and regard she held you in, that envy and jealousy melted away. Soft relief and reassurance took their place. The relief of knowing that she had finally found another whom she might confide it, perhaps even see as a friend. She has little in that way, as I am sure you know."

Faolán nodded, but remained silent. The Prince's words dredged up memories he had reluctantly stamped down and pushed away.

"So much has been taken from her," Loki continued, "it was heartening to see something being given to her. It gave me hope that not all saw her as what she was accused of being. That some were sharp and kind enough to see through the lies that had been spun around her."

The guilt that crept up was crippling. Faolán knew it was deliberate, at least on the Prince's part. Still, he said nothing.

"I need not tell you of the sense of betrayal and shock I felt upon seeing you there, that day, three months ago. I need not tell you that it is by far certain that she has learnt of your involvement," Loki's voice, already soft, had dropped to a whisper. "Tell me and let it be the truth, do not think to spin a tale for me when you tell me why you turned against her. The woman you called your sister, the one who held you as close to her heart as she did her late brother."

Faolán flinched at the words.

"What or who turned your heart against one who did nothing but trust you, confide in you her fears and who allowed you to see her at her weakest and most vulnerable?"

Not once had the Prince raised his voice. It had remained unnervingly calm, not even baring the slightest tremor. Faolán was grateful for the remaining darkness. The silence that followed the question seemed to crush him. An answer was demanded of him, an answer he knew that would likely go unbelieved. "My mind was my own," he began, "but my limbs and my body were not."

Loki narrowed his eyes as he regarded the guard. "What is it you mean by that? You speak as though an enchantment was cast upon you."

Faolán sighed and nodded. "I may not wield seidr like you, Her Highness or-" swallowing hard, he forced himself to say her name. "Y/N. But I know well the signs of an enchantment."

"Do you now?" Loki muttered. "If I were to believe what you say, would you likely reveal the name of the sorcerer?"

The guard nodded and directed his gaze to the stone floor of the passage. "Your lady wife," he replied, bracing himself for the Prince's reaction.

Loki said nothing. He did nothing but nod.

"If my word will not suffice, Your Highness, then look into my mind, my memories will tell you all you wish to know."

"There is no need for such a thing," Loki murmured. "For this reeks of her. Of the malicious depths she has sunk to. I ought to have known, ought to have seen it-" cutting himself off, he shook his head. "She truly has nothing now," he said, looking directly into the light. "She is alone, surrounded by those who distrust her, in a world that is not her own."

"Sire?"

"My brother informed me," Loki said, not looking away from the light. "He told me that his _friends_ had taken her captive." Sighing heavily, he let his eyes fall closed. "She is once again a prisoner. Alone, for I cannot find a way to her. Midgard is blocked to me."

Faolán, as well as every guard, knew of Prince Thor's mortal friends, the Avengers is what they called themselves. They had never come to Asgard.

"Come," said Loki suddenly, turning away from the guard.

Having little choice and not wishing to truly anger the Prince, Faolán followed him. Where he was being led was yet another mystery.

It was not a long walk. Soon a soft golden glow danced along the cavern's rocky walls. A glow that pulsated ever so gently. Faolán followed Loki until they came to a large underground chamber. He was no fool, he knew where they were. Before them, suspended in the air, was the orb that was the beating heart of the shield that protected the realm. It was said to have been destroyed during the last war.

"When the dark elves invaded," Loki said, drawing Faolán from his thoughts. "The shield was already weakened. When it was shattered, our defences all but crumbled. Our forces were dwindling. Never before had we been made so vulnerable to our enemies. Never before had Asgard been so exposed."

Faolán hummed in soft agreement.

"My brother and I, along with the Warriors Three came to find the shield generator shattered," Loki continued, becoming lost in the memory of that day. "We fought them as best we could, holding them back from truly destroying it beyond repair. Then she came," a faint smile touched his lips as he paused. "In restoring the shield, she gave her life, allowing the shield to be made whole again. Not long after, she was thrown in the dungeons."

The briefness of the tale surprised the guard. Daring to look sidelong at the Prince, Faolán saw that Loki had closed his eyes, his head slightly bowed.

"She gave her life for this realm," Loki whispered, lifting his gaze to the golden orb before them. "She sacrificed her life, her freedom, to protect Asgard and her people and what does she receive in return? Scorn, derision, pain, loneliness and exile."

"Hardly a hero's welcome," Faolán muttered in agreement.

Beside him, Loki said nothing. He merely gazed at the pulsing orb. He could still see it, see her. Kneeling there, hands outstretched and head bowed as she invoked the power of her race to aid her.

~ ~ ~

Upon receiving the go-ahead from both Steve and Tony, Wanda and Natasha entered the detention level.

Her cell was the last in a long line of empty ones. It made for an eerie atmosphere, cold and haunted. It seemed as though not even the clicking of their heels on the walkway was enough to alert the prisoner to their presence.

As Natasha made to punch in the sequence to open the cell, Wanda held up a hand, stilling her companion's movements. When Natasha sent her a rather confused glance, Wanda held a finger to her lips and nodded to the cell's occupant. The woman was facing away from them as she lay on the sorry excuse for a bed.

It had been three months since she had been brought in. Three months since she had last seen the sun or felt the breeze against her skin. In the white lighting of the cell, she looked sickly, any muscle she may have had looked to have wasted away. She appeared no better than a living corpse. Wanda felt a stab of pity for the young woman. The h/c hair had barely brushed her neck on the day she had been locked away, now it hung a little past her shoulders.

Nodding to Natasha, Wanda stood by as the cell was opened. It was the soft hiss of the door's release that alerted the woman. She slowly turned to face her visitors. She did not sneer or scowl. She said nothing. Dark shadows under her eyes only served to accentuate her hollowed cheeks. The cuffs on her wrists looked to weigh her down, much too heavy for her to even carry.

That snake of hers looked at the two Avengers with narrowed eyes as they approached his mistress. With a small nod from her, he slid reluctantly onto the cell's cot.

Finally she spoke, the sound of her voice startling them as to how much it had changed. "What do you want?" There was no fight in her words, no challenge. Her voice was thin, weary, resigned.

Neither Wanda nor Natasha said anything in reply. Stepping forward, they lifted her to her feet, expecting the snake to strike at them. But he remained where he lay, glaring up at them as they moved Y/N from the cell. Her legs barely supported her weight as she attempted to walk.

The journey to the levels dedicated to the apartments was a mercifully short one.

The moment they stepped from the elevators however, Y/N gasped and brought her shackled hands to her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes as they widened.

Sharing a look between them, Wanda and Natasha brought her closer to what had captivated her so. The floor to ceiling windows that allowed for plenty of natural light. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Y/N rested it gently against the window, curling her fingers against the glass. Her throat convulsed as she fought to repress her sobs, a few tears breaking free.

Reluctantly, the two women led her away, neither missed how she looked over her shoulder, keeping the precious sunlight in view until it disappeared as they turned a corner.

It had been decided in the meeting prior that she would be taken to Wanda's room. That was where they found themselves. The bathroom was large, much larger than Y/N was accustomed to.

Her eyes were everywhere at once. "Where am I?" She asked softly, it seemed as though she lacked the strength to speak any louder. "What is happening?"

Still they said nothing. While Natasha held her steady, Wanda set about filling the bath with warm water.

"A- a- bath?" Y/N stuttered out, as though in shock.

Wanda nodded and smiled softly, taking over from Natasha, who departed. "Take all the time you need," she replied. "Do you need help with your clothes?"

Y/N managed a weak shake of the head. "Why?" She asked. "This kindness?"

"It is not a kindness," Wanda said. "It is humane. You shall return to the cell when you have finished." With those words, she too left.

The moment the door closed, Y/N all but collapsed. Her hope of freedom had been crushed. How long had it been since she had bathed? Breathed fresh air? Barely managing to undress herself and enter the tub, she sank into the warm water. With her back to the door, she curled her arms around her bent knees. Resting her forehead against her knees, she wept. The shackles around her wrists were a daily reminder of her helplessness. She had tried on countless occasions to free herself of them, but failed every time.

It was evident that her cry for help had gone unheard. Was he unable to come to her as she was unable to go to him? Was he trapped on Asgard as she was trapped on Midgard? "Allmother," she whimpered, "can you not hear me?"

In her grief she did not see that she was not as alone as she might have imagined. Both Wanda and Natasha stood close by and saw for the first time, the scarred expanse of her back. The door had opened with not a creak, allowing them the full view of her back that was not submerged below the water. A look of horror entered their eyes at the sight.

The scars were thick and many in number. With a rush, the young woman's words came back to them.

_"The one who stood over me, whip in hand while my skin hung off my back in tatters?"_

Was Thor truly capable of such atrocities? In their acquaintance of him, never once had he displayed such mannerisms as the prisoner had described. But the scars did not lie. They spoke of a truly horrendous act. For only a whip could cause such damage. A whip used with force and a passion that came only from anger. But was Thor indeed the one who had committed this act? Thor with his bright, happy smiles and cheerful, warm greetings.

Had this woman spoken the truth? With one look to her friend who nodded in silent encouragement, Wanda focused forward, her eyes glowing red as she delved into the mind of the woman before them.


	55. In the darkest night I will be on my own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never met a strong person with an easy past. 
> 
> ~ Atticus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of a graphic scene in this chapter, my darlings, so please do be careful

Within her, Y/N bore the power to call down avalanches with but a few words. Now, the mere actions of looking up and breathing sapped at her strength.

Wanda had not said a word after she had delved into Y/N's mind. She had remained silent, even as she and Natasha stood in the hall outside her room. Not word, nor sound had left her, her mind reeling with all she had seen. She had _seen._ She had _felt._ She had _heard._

"What exactly did you see?" Natasha asked, not for the first time. There was a haunted look to Wanda's eyes and it set the spy on edge.

The breath trembled out of her as she breathed. "Everything," the witch whispered. "I saw everything."

"Does any of it prove her to have spoken the truth?"

After a moment, Wanda nodded.

"How much?"

"All of it," Wanda replied, meeting her friend's stunned gaze. "What she told us that day in England, it was all the truth."

"Even the parts about-?" Natasha murmured, horrified.

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes. "Regrettably so."

"Are we gonna tell the others?"

"How?" Wanda asked softly, opening her eyes and looking down at her hands. "How could I possibly _tell_ them?"

Her words sparked an idea in Natasha's mind. "What if you were to _show_ us?"

"My abilities do not work that way, you know that."

"Maybe they do, and you have yet to discover it?" Natasha suggested, looking hopefully at the woman beside her.

"I would know."

Together, the two women stood in silence. A silence that was soon broken by the speedy entrance of Wanda's twin. Pietro's reaction was near on instant. Instinct told him that his sister, his other half, was deeply troubled. Taking a hold of her hands in his own, he spoke softly, "you look troubled, _sestra_. What is it?"

Wanda said nothing, merely meeting her brother's gaze, her attempt at a smile fell short.

"Nat?" Pietro turned to the Russian spy, "what exactly happened?"

The woman in question shook her head. "It is not for me to say. But I do believe that your sister has something to show all of us."

Pietro turned back to his twin. "What is it?" He asked in a whisper.

Wanda merely shook her head and leaned into him.

"She has spoken very little since she saw it," Natasha murmured, seeing the way Pietro's arm snaked around his sister to hold her close.

"Saw what?"

Meeting Wanda's eyes, Natasha replied, "she entered the mind of the prisoner."

Pietro gasped and looked down to where his sister was avoiding all eye contact. "You did _what?"_

Finally she spoke. "I had to," she mumbled. "After seeing her back, I _had_ to."

"Her back?" Her brother asked, confused. "What has her back to do with anything?"

At last Wanda met his eyes. "Everything," she replied. Without another word, she took hold of one of her brother's hands and pulled him down the hallway he had come from. Natasha followed quickly, talking into her earpiece as she did, calling the team together.

No sooner had they all gathered in one of the tower's common areas, when Tony took it upon himself to be the spokesman for them all. "What's the deal?" He asked, looking between the twins and Natasha. "Why the cryptic talk? I know you're a spy and all, Romanoff, but-"

"There is something I believe all should see," it was Wanda who spoke, cutting him off with a soft voice.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Wanda bit her lip in a rare show of vulnerability and folded her hands to keep from fidgeting. "It is rather difficult to explain and as I would very much like to keep my head where it is, it would be best if I simply went ahead."

"Your words don't inspire much confidence," Sam spoke up, folding his arms.

"They are not meant to," Wanda replied, her eyes already beginning to glow a soft, eerie red.

Before any could say a word more, the world around them shifted until it was no longer their own. A foreign landscape greeted the confused Avengers. People milled about in what appeared to be a town square. The town itself looked to be right out of the history books.

The centre of attention however, seemed to be a rider that had entered the town, drawing all to him as he spoke of an impending invasion.

"Just where are we?" Clint asked, looking to Wanda.

The witch merely shook her head and nodded to the crowd that had taken no note of the Avengers that stood as clear as day.

Tony opened his mouth to ask yet another question when a member of the crowd spoke up. A young man had stepped forward, leaning heavily on a staff as he did so. _"I, Vídarr Hrókrson, do hereby pledge my sword as in days passed."_

As he made to kneel however, his favoured leg folded beneath him, prompting a young woman to rush forward. A young woman they all found somewhat familiar. As she helped the man stand, she looked up at the rider and spoke in a voice they all recognised. _"As my brother is wounded from the last war, I shall stand in his place."_

A cold shock ran through them all. No wonder she had appeared so familiar. Sharing a look of surprise and shock, the Avengers watched in silence as she was dismissed by the rider. _"You should remember your place, Hrókrdóttir. As your brother has."_

Without so much as a warning, the world around the Avengers shifted once more. 

This time they stood on the outskirts of a military encampment. Their attention soon shifted to a young soldier that stood at the entrance, a towering bay stallion beside him. They saw the three warriors approach before the young man did.

_"You look a little lost,"_ the blond warrior spoke, eyeing the newcomer.

_"Indeed,"_ his red bearded companion chimed in, resting a battleaxe over his shoulder.

The new soldier appeared to fighting a sneer. A sneer that turned into a glare as the dark haired warrior among them spoke up. _"Like a lamb amongst wolves."_

_ "I am no lamb, sir. I am simply answering the call of the Allfather."   
_

The three warriors laughed as though a great joke had been told.   


It was not long after the blond man had lain a hand on the young soldier's arm that a fight broke out. The Avengers watched in fascination as three squared off against one. The new soldier handled the large sword as though it had been made for him and him alone. He dodged and parried blows and managed to tuck and roll himself out of the corner he had been backed into. 

All four were gasping for breath when the brawl came to a halt, a blade to the blond's throat. A blade the new soldier held. _"I would think twice if I were you,"_ he panted, even now managing a glare. 

_ "Why you little-"  _

_ "Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg!" _

The Avengers all grinned upon seeing Thor march up to the group. All four immediately fell to their knees before him. _"What is the meaning of this?"_  


Their joy at seeing their teammate was dampened upon realising just who stood beside him. Attired in his customary black, green and gold, Loki looked every bit the warrior Prince. He stood tall beside his brother and smiled lightly as his words to the small group before them set the three warriors on edge. 

Loki's attention however, had strayed to the newcomer. His eyes had narrowed and the Avengers felt pity for the young man. They did not hear what was said, for soon their world shifted and they found themselves in a new setting. 

The world around them shifted many more times, each showing them a new scene. It startled the Avengers to see Loki in so many of them. The young man too, they felt as though they ought to know him.

It wasn't until the Prince had taken it upon himself to personally train the young man, that the Avengers knew something was wrong. They watched as he demonstrated what he wanted his student to do.

"I will never see archery the same way again," Clint grumbled, glaring at the raven-haired Prince as he expertly held the weapon and made a perfect shot.

When at last it was the soldier's turn, they watched with baited breath. The arrow that was fired made the shot perfectly. Yet the smile Loki gave was a little too sinister to be congratulatory. All colour left the young man's face when the Prince stepped behind him and whispered but one word. _"Peonies."_

Then they felt it. The fear that they now knew belonged to the young man and they watched as he ran, only to be cornered by the Prince he had been trying to escape. They could do little but watch in horrified silence as Loki advanced, his tone and manner only growing to threaten further. 

Then they stopped. As though something was physically preventing them from going any further.

_"Wards,"_ Loki explained as though it were obvious and folded his hands.

_"It was you, wasn't?"_ Loki said softly, his breath fanning over her lips. _"The source of my constant unease. The unknown wielder."_

Unknown wielder? The Avengers exchanged confused glances. A confusion that soon gave way to shock as the image of the young man melted away, leaving in its place the young woman from the town.   


The exchange between them was wrought with emotions and untold truths. 

Wanda guided them through many more visions. They watched as Loki trained the girl, becoming her tutor in combat magic. It was truly a sight, to see Loki in action. Neither of the Avengers had ever seen the full extent of his capabilities and yet still, they suspected he was holding back. 

All had fought before. All, save for Peter, had taken lives. Yet, as they stood there, a high point above the battle raging in the valley below, it felt as though they had never seen war before. This was different. This was primal and ripe with bloodlust on both sides. The two Princes were easily visible, fighting side-by-side. 

Their observation was cut short by a horrified cry from Thor. _"Loki!"_

Though they held no love for the man, the Avengers all gasped upon seeing the cause of Thor's distress. Loki was currently backed against the mountain and struggling for breath as a monstrous being proceeded to choke the very air from him.   


They were not the only ones to have noticed. Their attention snapped to the charging figure of a horse and rider barrelling through the crowd. Soft words in a foreign language whispered around them, echoing off the mountains. 

"What is she doing?" Sam asked, eyes following the young woman as she dismounted the horse in one fluid motion, only to ram her blade through the back of the beast that held Loki. 

"Saving Mr.Loki of course," Peter piped up, smiling widely though his eyes were filled with worry. 

They watched and listened as she spoke with Thor, gently lifting an unconscious Loki onto her horse as she did so. All around them the words whispered once more before a faint rumbling eclipsed them.

Thor's look of horror turned into one of rage as he looked to her. _"Avalanche, you caused this?"_

Nodding, she mounted up, settling the unconscious Prince securely before her. _"Retreat to the Capital, Your Highness. I will meet you there."_ With those words, she urged her horse into a gallop as the snow tumbled down around them. The Avengers did not miss how she bent low, protecting Loki from the avalanche as best she could as they left the battlefield behind. 

With Wanda's magic, they accompanied her. They followed her as she outran six hunters. They watched as she fought them off. They saw her heal Loki's wounds as best she could. They watched in silence as she cried out to the night sky as she held him close, begging and pleading in a language they did not understand. Yet, the pain and desperation, they understood. 

They watched as she spoke with Thor's friends and defied them, sending them on their way. They observed how she spoke with Loki, convincing him to mount the horse before backing away. They heard the light tremor in her voice and the shock in his.

They watched as she remained behind, closing her eyes as one tear escaped from each eye. 

The next scene they were thrust into, was one of chaos and conflict. Everything looked to be on fire, but she paid it no mind as she entered the Palace. It was much too quiet and every little sound made her jump.

When she came to a stairwell, they followed her and were greeted with the scene of a fight. But her sights were not on the action taking place. Rather it was on the golden shards on the dais.

"The shattered shield," Steve murmured, earning mutters of agreement from his teammates. It was clear now what her objective was.

Never before had they witnessed something such as that. They watched as she knelt before the shards and bowed her head, raising her arms. It made for a truly awesome sight, seeing the shards move and shift back into place.

They saw how she collapsed mere moments after standing and they saw how Loki rushed to her side, catching her before she fell.

When next they saw her, she looked much more like the version of her they knew. Now she bore a brand. Fresh it was, raw and bleeding. It was truly horrific. The cuffs that were soon clamped around her wrists looked all too similar to the ones she currently wore in the tower.

A whimper sounded and it took a moment for the Avengers to realise that it had come from Wanda. Her eyes were open, red and swimming with tears.

"What is it _sestra?"_ Pietro asked, coming to stand beside her.

"What you will see next," she replied softly. "I am truly sorry."

They quickly learned it was not the execution of the enemy that Wanda had referred to, nor was it the way Y/N had found Loki's gaze for a split second. No. It was nothing quite like that. It was what happened after.

She was not taken back to her cell, but to another room. It was a relatively large room, its choice of decor sending chills up the spine of whatever unfortunate being was dragged through that door.

The Avengers however, were horrified to see that Thor was there. He offered no words of comfort to the young woman, he merely nodded to the guards on either side of her. In answer to their Prince, they unlocked her wrists, only to pull them harshly behind her before re-securing the shackles. Kicking at the back of her knees, they forced her to the ground and held her there.

"Her hair," Thor said. "It will be a hinderance."

Those words were enough for a look of horror to enter her eyes. But not so much as a word escaped her before a third guard appeared, holding a pair of shears. Her struggles were in vain as she fought to back away.

The guard was not kind. Soon her hair had been cut short, roughly so. Her scalp bled from the small wounds inflicted by the shears, allowing blood to trickle down her neck and face.

"Now," announced Thor. "For the true reason you have been brought here." Moving to stand behind her, he took the place of the guards and held her firmly to the ground. "Brokkr, if you would," he said to the dwarf that only now emerged from the shadows. "No more lies," Thor hissed in her ear as the dwarf moved closer. 

The Avengers were frozen with the horror of the scene. They watched as the dwarf produced an awl and a length of metal thread. They found themselves incapable of anything as the dwarf began.

Her screams and cries echoed in the room. Her tears soon mixed with the blood from her mouth. Her mouth that was now a bloody mess as the dwarf worked to silence her.

It was only when the deed was done that she was finally released. As Thor let her go, she collapsed to the ground, blood pooling by her face.

"Take us back," Tony whispered, sounding deeply disturbed. "Wanda, take us back _now."_

"Not yet," the witch replied. 

The scene that followed was equally as horrific. The flogging she had told them about and the violence of the older Prince whom they saw as a faultless hero. They saw Loki, stumbling to a halt as he emerged from the gathered crowd. They watched as he broke free of the crowd and went to her, kneeling beside her and taking her in his arms.

Never had they seen so much blood.

As the world shifted however, they recognised the setting to be the one of the tower. No one said a word and all were pale.

"Was that all of it?" Natasha spoke first.

Wanda shook her head. "No," she replied. "There is so much more. But I could not bring myself to show you."

"I suggest you bring her here," Steve finally said, seating himself on the sofa. "I believe it is time those cuffs were removed."

Tony looked ready to argue, but soon thought better of it. "Pietro?" He said to the silver-haired man, surprising all with his lack of nicknames. "Fetch her would you? Take Romanoff with you."

Nodding silently, Pietro held out his hand to the spy before breaking into a breakneck speed. When they returned however, they were missing the one they had been sent to retrieve.

"Well?" Steve asked. "Where is she?"

"That's just it," Natasha said, looking around at her teammates. "We don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Clint demanded.

""She's gone," Pietro explained, silencing the room. "We searched the tower. She's gone."

"Any hint as to where she might have gone?" Bruce asked.

"The cuffs she wore," Natasha said. "They were left on the tiles by the bath. And on the mirror was a sequence of patterns. Similar to the ones she scratched into the cell."

"What does that mean?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to Steve.

"This one was longer," Pietro replied. "This one had six patterns. The other had four."

"Can you remember what they were?" Bruce piped up.

"No," Natasha said and grinned. "That's why I took a photo and sent it to you."

"What is that?" Peter breathed in wonder as he saw the image come up on Bruce's tablet that scientist never went anywhere without.

"A word in a very old language," Bruce explained. "They appear similar to the runic script of the early Vikings. This is a very old language."

"What does it say?" Peter asked, his mind flashing to his conversation with the young woman in the cell.

"It appears to be a name of sorts," Bruce muttered and squinted at the screen as the system he was using began to decipher the word.

Soon it was complete, but before Bruce could say so much as a word, Peter beat him to it. "It says that the word from the foggy bathroom mirror was indeed a name. A strange name, but a name none the less."

"Well?" Sam pressed impatiently.

"It says the word is _Frigga,"_ Peter replied. "But who is that?"

"Don't you know your mythology?" Tony teased. "She is a goddess and Thor and Loki's mother. She is the Queen of Asgard and Odin's wife."

"But why write her name?" Peter muttered.

For that, the Avengers had no answer.


	56. Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following your heart is the surest way of getting lost.
> 
> ~ Beau Taplin "Lousy Directions."

His mother's summons confused him, to say the least. She did not state the reason, only that he must tell no one of where he was going. No mention had been made of the twins, so it most certainly could not concern Y/N. Or perhaps it did, did he dare hope?

Holding the parchment that bore his mother's missive, he looked away from the window and turned his gaze to the cradle. The twins found comfort in each other and could often be found curled around the other when they slept. Padding his way over to them, Loki crouched down and reached out, gently tracing the lines of their faces. "I must go a while," he whispered to them. "But fear not, my little ones, no harm shall befall you in my absence." With those words, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to their foreheads, murmuring a protective enchantment as he did so.

Reluctantly he rose and upon reconsideration, created a double to remain with them. Silently, he slipped from the suite of rooms and made for his mother's solar.

Night had fallen upon the golden realm, leaving the torches to illuminate the golden halls. His feet fell silently as he moved, staying to the shadows. The Queen's chambers were not far from his own, thus making the journey mercifully short. Hopefully he would be able to return to the twins soon.

The grand suite of rooms were empty as he entered them. Calling for his mother, he received no answer, which in turn caused his brows to furrow. Had she not said to come to this place? Circling the rooms, he narrowed his eyes. Had this all been a trick to lure him from the twins?

Upon wandering into his mother's study, a small white square caught his eye from where it sat on the Queen's desk. Loki's curiosity only grew when he saw his name written on the white in his mother's elegant hand.

_"My son,_

_Come to the Healing Rooms when you come upon this note. I await you there."_

No signature told him who had sent it, his mother's name did not grace the paper. Holding the paper in the palm of his hand, he watched in silence as flames took it, rendering it into naught but ash that was soon blown away. Turning on his heels, Loki left the Queen's chambers behind.

~ ~ ~

The quickest route to the Healing Rooms would be to pass through the Royal wing. It was a risk, Frigga knew that. But it was a risk worth taking, even more so when considering the young woman at her side.

Y/N was making a valiant attempt of bearing her own weight but was clearly unable to do so. Those three months in captivity had drained her strength away in more ways than one and Frigga had made it her first goal to rid her of those awful cuffs. The freedom of that action had brought but a dull spark of life back into the young woman.

With one arm around her waist, the Queen supported her as they moved along the silent corridors. Any guards they passed merely bowed in respect to their Queen, sparing no second glance for her companion who was clearly struggling to stay upright.

"They see a face they do not know," Frigga replied to Y/N's silent question and smiled softly.

Y/N nodded as best she could and felt her grip tighten where her hands had curled into the Queen's cloak. With every step she took she felt as though her legs would give way beneath her. She felt downright pathetic and horrendously mortified that the Queen of Asgard would stoop to help one such as her. Her mind was in disarray and her heart beat thunderously within her.

She was back and the implications of that were not lost on her.

Asgard meant but one thing for her now. Reuniting with her family. Her children. Her thundering heart stuttered at the mere thought of them. How much had they grown in their separation? Had they begun to speak yet? Were they walking? Oh how she longed to see them again, to hold them in her arms and kiss their little foreheads.

"Not far to go now," Frigga murmured, pulling Y/N from her thoughts.

Forcing herself back to the present, Y/N looked ahead to the empty corridor. How they had managed to come this far was beyond her. The Queen was bearing the brunt of her weight and walking for the both of them.

Passing through the Royal wing, she could not help but look for the doors that lead to his chambers. Would the children be there? Would he be there with them? Her heart warmed at the memory of the twins with their father. His love for them was already so evident.

Her journey through memory lane was cut short by a sound that pulled rather sharply on the strings of her heart. It came from a chamber they had yet to pass by. Even from where she now was, she could see the door stood slightly open.

She said nothing. Her eyes however, said plenty. Tears filled them and her hands shook. When the sound came again, she gasped, soft and strangled. It was a sound that caught Frigga's attention. Looking to the side, she saw that Y/N had frozen completely. Her attention was on the set of chamber doors just ahead of them.

Then she said but one word and it tore at Frigga's heart.

"My-," she swallowed and tried again. "My-" her voice shook and cracked, her attention solely on who was behind that door. "Mine," she finally whispered before turning to the Queen at her side. "M-majesty, was that-?"

Frigga nodded and adjusted her hold on the young woman. "Yes."

"M-may I?"

"We must get you to the Healing Rooms, my dear," Frigga said softly. "Eir awaits us. I promise you that you shall see them very soon."

"Majesty, please," Y/N implored, unable to keep the trembling from her voice. "My children-" her words were cut off by a sound from the room and her head whipped in their direction. It was not the sound of the children that held her attention now. It was the voice of another. The last person she would allow near the twins.

A strength came to her from the very last of her reserves. Stumbling away from the Queen, Y/N made her way to the doors and laid a hand on the smooth surface when she felt the Queen's own hand cover hers.

Shrouding them both, Frigga allowed for them both to slip into the rooms unseen.

Y/N felt her heart leap into her throat at the scene that greeted her. The cradle hid the twins from her, as did the two figures that stood before it. One male and one female. One with hair as midnight and skin as marble, the other with hair as spun gold and eyes that changed with the light.

"Do not disturb them," Loki spoke softly, though there was a clear warning in the words.

"My presence disturbs only you," Sigyn replied. "They do not resent me as you do."

"No," he murmured. "They resent you more."

When, however, Sigyn bent towards the cradle, Y/N felt her restraint snap and moved forward, had Frigga not stopped her and taken her from the room. "She would dare-," she hissed with what venom she could muster. "How dare she touch them?!"

For this, Frigga blamed herself. This was bound to happen, it had been foolish to believe otherwise. This required a change in plans.

~ ~ ~

Staying to the shadows, he watched them. The healers who did not know who stood just a short distance away. He watched the doors for any sign of his mother. But she did not come.

How much longer ought he to wait? Through his double he had felt Sigyn's presence and had seen her attempt to take one of the sleeping children. But then, fleetingly, he had felt the presence of another. The moment had ended before he had fully registered who it might have been.

Should he leave? What if the Queen was a mere few steps away and bound to walk through the doors at any moment?

And yet, something pulled at his mind. It pulled him from the tranquil hub that was the Healing Rooms and back out into the corridor beyond. The Palace, it seemed, had fallen asleep, leaving only a few skeleton staff to managed it all.

As he walked, his mind began to wander into the events that lead him to where he presently was. The note from his mother that was left in his study. The note in her solar that had been placed where he always sat when visiting his mother. What did it all lead to in the end? A wild goose chase as the mortals would say. All for what?

He had sensed no foul play upon reading those notes. There had been no enchantment or illusion and Sigyn herself had believed the double to be him. Shaking his head, Loki brought the faces of his children to mind. Sleeping peacefully side by side. The image made him smile and quicken his steps.

It was however, a short distance from his chamber that he saw them. Two figures walking close together and growing smaller as they moved away from him. One appeared to be leaning against the other, but anything more than that, he could not see.

Had he looked for a moment longer, he might have seen the torchlight catch on the fine fabric of the Queen's winter cloak.

No message awaited him as he entered the rooms. A crackling fire burnt in the marble fireplace, wrapping the suite of rooms in a warm light. Upon inspection, he noted that the cradle was empty, but before panic could take hold, he heard them. A couple sat by the fire and were whispering in low voices.

His double was not to be seen.

"One would think all was right in the Nine," Loki heard his brother whisper. "If one were to look upon the peaceful face of a slumbering babe."

"I quite agree," Sigyn whispered back and smiled softly at the child in her arms. She could _almost_ believe the child to be hers. Had it not been for the truth she knew a little too well. It made her smile to see how calm the little girl was, her little chest rising and falling with each breath. Her small head was already covered in a generous coat of ebony hair, much like her brother and father. The strands were soft and reminded the Princess of silken threads. Bending slightly, she made to kiss the child, but was ultimately unable to do so. Something was stopping her.

Again she tried. Again she failed.

In the shadows, Loki smiled. That act belonged to Y/N and her alone.

Stepping forward, he entered into the circle of light and walked to stand by the fire. "Please return the children to their cradle," he said without turning to face the couple. "They sleep best when they are beside each other."

In facing the flames, he missed his brother's look of surprise. His tone had not been harsh or cold, yet it had still held an edge. However, before Thor could say so much as a word, Sigyn spoke up. "What harm is there in holding them?" She asked, rising to stand beside her husband. "Look how at peace she is," she said softly, looking down at the girl. "Our little Gisèle."

Frowning at the name, Loki reached forward and gently took the child in his arms, wrapping them securely around her. The child made a small noise at the movement, a sound at which her father gently soothed her back to sleep. Without so much as a word, he turned from his wife and made his way back to the cradle and lowered his daughter onto the bedding, smoothing her hair once she lay down. "Hush now, Ayla," he whispered as she whimpered at the loss of warmth. "Your brother shall join you soon."

True to his word, the Prince extracted his son from his uncle's arms and said not a word to the elder Prince as he did so. Standing by the fire, Thor watched alongside Sigyn as Loki placed his son back in the cradle and crouched beside it. Even from where he stood, he could make out the soft words his brother uttered to his children.

"Sleep now, children of mine. Sleep and dream of sweet things and soft smiles..." Loki let his voice trail into silence before beginning what sounded very similar to a lullaby.

_" I see your lives from first love to last  
I know your whole life though you’ve not lived it  
I see your whole life from first breath to death  
And still I would see you live it_

_How the realm loves you and how you do shine  
And how could you not, beautiful children of mine..."_

From where he stood, Thor heard it all. He had never heard his brother sing, never knew he possessed the ability. His voice was soft and low, calming.

_"I will make them all promise to do you no harm  
I would protect you my loves, my little King and little Queen  
For should the day come when your hearts cease to beat  
I will rend my cloak and tear my hair  
I will tear down this world until I have you back   
_

_Know that I love you with every breath_   
_Know that I love you in life and in death."_

As the last notes faded into the night, Loki reached out and lightly lay a hand atop both twins. "I will protect you both until the last breath leaves my body. I failed your mother, I shall not fail you."

Those words. They stuck with Thor even as he silently departed, Sigyn in tow. The moment they stood in the corridor, he turned to her. "You heard his words?"

The Princess nodded, but remained silent.

"What does he speak of?" Thor asked, "in which way does he believe he failed you?"

"I do not know," Sigyn replied and met his gaze. "That is a question only your brother can answer."

"I fear there is but one more question I must ask you," Thor said, motioning for her to walk alongside him.

"You know you may ask me anything," Sigyn replied, "you know that."

"Indeed," he murmured before coughing lightly and taking a breath before speaking again. "Then surely you must know of the questions surrounding your children?"

"Questions?" She repeated, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Thor nodded before continuing. "I have heard whispers. Whispers regarding the true parentage of the twins. That another woman may be their mother, for they bear little in way of resemblance to you."

Sigyn was silent before answering. Indeed, even at the tender age of three months, one could easily see the twins favoured their father in way of appearances, that was to say nothing of the nature of their ears that were lightly pointed at the tips. Allowing her lips to curve in a small smile, she met the Prince's blue gaze and found no judgement there. Only concern. "Another woman is their mother," she replied and quickly continued before a stunned Thor could cut in. "For you see, Thor, during my travels through Asgard, I came upon one of the many homes for parentless children. Orphans. Upon my visit, I noticed the twins, but a few hours old, a day at best. Upon enquiry, I discovered that their mother had died during the birth of the second twin and as her husband had perished during the war, no one was left to care for them. A neighbour had brought them to the orphanage."

"But what of your pregnancy?"

"A simple trick," Sigyn explained.

"You took in a pair of orphan twins?" Thor asked, voice soft with shock. "Even with the knowledge of their race?"

The Princess nodded. "Their race means little to me. I have wished for children my entire adult life and all I desire now, is to love them and give them the home that was stolen from them."

Thor smiled upon hearing her words. "If only all of Asgard knew of your heart," he murmured. "How big it is. I admire you, sister. Not many would have done what you did."

Returning his embrace, Sigyn smiled. There had been some truth to her words. Their mother may as well be dead, for she would never see her children again.

~ ~ ~

Wrapping both arms securely around her charge, Frigga closed her eyes. There was but one place they could go. One place where all were loyal to her and less so to the King her husband.

If Y/N knew what was happening, she said nothing. She said nothing as the air shifted around them and her stomach heaved within her. It was only when she felt the Queen's arms fall away that she looked up and around.

They were no longer at the Palace.

Where they were exactly, she could not say. Though it was night, the lights of the building before them illuminated it as well as the sun may have done. Even in her weakened state, she managed to appreciate the beauty of it.

Adjusting her hold on Y/N, Frigga encouraged her to move. Slowly they made their way to the main entrance where servants immediately stopped what they were about and bowed to their Queen and mistress.

"Your Majesty," a maid spoke up, "though unexpected, your presence delights us. How may we be of service and to that of your companion?"

Frigga smiled warmly at the maid. "Have one of the guest chambers prepared," she instructed, "our guest is in need of rest and healing."

Nodding, the maid who had spoken ushered the servants along with her.

"Where are we?" Y/N asked, looking around as best she could.

"My estate in the Lake Country," Frigga replied. "It is sufficiently far from the Capital that we shall receive no disturbance here. Now come, my dear, your chamber awaits."

The chambers she had been given were much larger than Y/N was accustomed to. Gently ushered into the large double bed, she was hard pressed not fall asleep right then and there. Frigga, it seemed, had guessed her worry.

Reaching out, the Queen lay a gentle hand atop Y/N's forehead and allowed her seidr to flow through. "Rest now, dear one. For when you wake, there shall be one more to greet you."

In her mind, Frigga called to him. She spoke words of urgency and hope to her youngest. _"Hasten to my estate by the Lakes."_

 _"Mother?"_ His confusion was clear. _"Dare I hope this is a connection to the messages you have left me prior?"_

 _"Indeed,"_ she replied. _"Now hurry and fear not for the children, for they shall be under my care."_

_"Will you please tell me what has occurred for you to call to me so?"_

Here Frigga smiled, her hand still resting lightly atop Y/N's head. _"Their mother lays before me, resting and healing."_

A beat of silence passed before Loki spoke again, this time much softer. The hope in his voice was fragile. _"Y/N?"_

 _"Yes,"_ his mother said in reply. _"She is here. She is home and she waits for you, even as she sleeps."_

_"Then I am making my way to you as we speak. To you both."_

The silence that followed his words would not last long, for already he stood at the estate boundary, having called upon his magic to bring him there. The lights of the palatial manor beckoned to him, the main doors opening to welcome him.

"Her Majesty said to expect your arrival," one of the footmen said to him, bowing. "If Your Highness will please follow me?"

Loki could do little else but nod as he followed close behind the footman, coming at last to a halt before a guest chamber door. Nodding in thanks to the footman, he reached out and grasped the handle, turning it and swinging the door soundlessly open before stepping into the room beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics of Loki's lullaby are taken from Mama Gina's 'Freya's Lullaby'. I made a few changes to the lyrics, but the original idea and concept belong to Mama Gina.


	57. Mother and Child

His mother was not there when he entered the room. He did not call for her, his attention was solely on the woman on the bed. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep.

Saying nothing as he approached her, he let his gaze sweep over her. There was a soft golden glow that was barely perceptible beneath her skin and traced in vein-like patterns that pulsed ever so gently. Her hair was longer now, longer than it had been since he had last seen her and there was a frailty about her. A frailty that convinced him she would break should he so much as breathe in her direction.

There was a chair by the bed, one he soon occupied. There were so many things he wanted to say. The words tumbled over in his mind, each racing to get spoken first. There was a faint burning behind his eyes as he looked to her and furrowing his brow, he fought the oncoming tears. Fighting them back and swallowing hard, he finally and rather hesitantly, reached out and lay a hand atop where hers lay folded on her stomach.

Still no words came. Silence reigned.

His hand began to tremble lightly as he caught sight of the markings on her wrists. Markings caused by restraints. Inhaling sharply, he drew his hand away and stood, walking to the closed doors that lead to the balcony. His throat convulsed as he swallowed his emotions down and his nostrils flared with each breath he took. With blurred vision, he dared to glance back at her. His fists clenched at his sides as he noticed just how thin she really was and how her skin appeared not have seen the sun for some time. Dark, bruise-like shadows dusted the skin beneath her eyes and her lips were paler than he remembered.

What had been done to her?

Turning back to the window, he waged a war within himself. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and finally let one lone tear escape. How could he claim to love her when he had failed to protect her from his enemies? How dare he hold her heart when he had failed her so grievously? His failure and inability to find a way had resulted in this, her suffering. His nails began to dig so far into his palms that flesh broke and blood was drawn.

Taking a breath that stuttered on its way in, he turned back to the bed. Back to her. How desperately he wished to hold her. Stepping closer, he felt his hands itch to reach out once more. He did not smile. He could not smile. Not when she appeared before him thus.

The words, when at last they came, were soft. "You are worth every word of love," he whispered, standing at her side. "Worth every good word. Every tear of joy. You are worth the sun's rays and the warm air. You are worth the happiness and the laughter. You are worth everything good and beautiful and I do not deserve you, monster that I am." Pausing, he leaned forward and brushed a feather light kiss against her forehead, a tear landing softly on her cheek as he spoke once more. "I only plead that you can accept the love of someone willing to try."

His hand shook as it hovered by her cheek.

"Three months you were gone from us," he murmured. "Three long months." The hand by her cheek moved down until it rested by her left wrist. She had been a captive, that much was obvious. His fingertips gently brushed over the healing marks. He himself bore scars such as those. His hand dropped away and returned to his side.

"I promised you that I would find a way to you," he continued, his voice carrying the same soft tone. "That I would come for you..." his words trailed into a heavy silence. A silence only broken by a ragged gasp as he turned away. Both eyes wept now. Turning back, he regarded her through his tears. "What was done to you?" His smooth voice gone, in its place a broken, pathetic variant. "What further suffering where you forced to endure?"

No answer came. He had hoped for one, yet knew better than to expect it. When would she wake? How many days? Would it be months? His heart stuttered painfully within him at the mere notion. His mother's magic was healing her as best it was able.

Settling himself into the chair he had previously abandoned, he watched over her.

That was how Frigga found him. He had long since fallen asleep in what appeared to be a most uncomfortable position. She smiled softly and looked to the young woman on the bed. Her skin had regained more of its natural colour and the shadows beneath her eyes had faded significantly.

The twins in her arms shifted as though to get a better look at the new face. She had taken the twins from the care of the nanny that Sigyn had insisted on employing. The mere presence of the Queen was enough to silence any protests from the other woman.

She saw it just in time. It was Vídarr who seemed to recognise the woman on the bed first. Frigga was well aware that Loki had ensured the children knew who their real mother was. She watched as the little boy slowly reached out a hand, his sister soon following suit.

Being mindful of her son, Frigga stepped around him and approached the bed, eventually sitting at the edge of it. The eagerness and curiosity of the twins increased tenfold. Ayla's little hand softly brushed her mother's cheek and the little girl smiled widely. A smile only seen in the presence of her father. Her little lips parted as she spoke for the first time. "Mama."

Frigga was sure she had forgotten how to breathe. She found herself staring at the child and then at her brother who soon repeated the word.

The word that woke their father.

Blinking awake, the Prince winced at the ache in his neck. That pain however, was soon forgotten as he became witness to the sight before him. It had been a soft voice that had awoken him. A voice he had never heard before. Now he knew to whom it belonged. His daughter, as she addressed her mother for the first time. Her brother too, knew who lay before them. The sight of their little hands resting on her face warmed his aching heart.

Sitting up, he leaned forward. "Mother?" He whispered, looking to the Queen. His gaze traveled from her to his children and back again.

"Loki," she smiled warmly.

"Did I hear that correctly?" He asked. It was not until the child's second to third year of life that they would begin to speak. The twins were not yet half a year of age.

Frigga nodded.

Standing, Loki reached forward and took his son in his arms. The boy leaned his head on his father's shoulder, yet his eyes did not leave his mother. "You spoke," the Prince murmured, awestruck. "You spoke."

"Truly a phenomenon," Frigga said softly. "To speak at such an early age. It is unheard of."

"How is this possible?" Loki asked, beginning to sway gently from side to side. "They have not yet learned to walk, yet they speak."

"I wish I knew, my boy. I wish I knew. Perhaps Eir may know?"

The Prince shook his head, his arms curling a touch tighter around his son. "No," he replied firmly. "At least, not for the moment."

Frigga said nothing by way of a reply. Stepping aside, she allowed Loki room to step up to the bed and sit at its edge. She watched in silence as he lay the child down on the soft blanket that covered the bed. He lay the boy beside his mother and gently stroked the fine black strands on his little head.

Both Prince and Queen watched as little Vídarr lay on his stomach, staring up at the sleeping woman. A moment passed, then another and then another before the boy lowered his head to rest against her shoulder.

In her arms, Frigga felt Ayla wriggle, eager to be with her brother. Upon being laid down in a similar manner, the little girl reached out and rested one tiny hand on her mother's hip. Stepping back, Frigga looked to Loki and found him staring at the scene before him.

"They know who she is," he said, "even so young."

Beside him, Frigga nodded. "Because you have made it so," she said. "You ensured they knew who she was. Who she _is."_


	58. The returned

A vague sense of familiarity washed over as she blinked awake.

Groaning softly as she turned her head, she noted with curiosity that there were two small depressions, one on either side of her. Shifting her gaze, she took in her surroundings. She knew well where she was and sought to come to terms with it.

The Queen had rescued her. The Queen had heard her.

Even as her head swam with such thoughts, she pulled the opulent sheets away with trembling hands and made to stand, only for her legs to fail her. She would have crashed to the ground in an ungainly heap had two strong arms not caught her.

Gasping at the impact, she looked up. Dark hair, pale skin, a gentle smile. Her heart ached within her and her hands shook as she moved to take hold the arms that held her. No words came to her as she drank in the image before her. Her lips formed words that were never spoken and curved into a smile that matched the one she saw.

"Easy there, miss. I have you."

The words made her frown, as did the voice that spoke them. Blinking, she realized it was a young woman that held her and had prevented her from crumbling to the ground. She had kind eyes, this stranger, the colour of amber as the sun shone through it. Nothing else was said as she helped her charge to sit at the edge of the bed. "While it is indeed a great relief to see you awaken, I feel I must advise you against trying to walk, or stand, just yet."

"Why?" She spoke for the first time, her voice a little rough and only a little above a whisper.

"Your body has been resting," her companion explained. "The muscles in your legs will take some time to regain their strength."

Y/N felt her eyebrows furrow. Just how long had she been asleep? She remembered the Queen leading her into this very room and urging her to sleep. "How long?"

"Three months to the day."

"Three months?" She repeated, eyes wide.

The woman beside her nodded. "Indeed, miss. Her Majesty's enchantment must have gone deep indeed."

"Enchantment," Y/N echoed softly and looked down at her wrists. Only the faintest of scars remained. "She healed me?"

"She did," the woman beside her replied. "His Highness did too, whenever he would visit."

"His Highness?" The hope on her voice was indeed a challenge to hide, she could only hope that her eyes gave nothing away. Loki had come? He had been there, beside her? "He was here?"

"Most certainly. Sometimes he would come with the Queen and on other occasions he would come alone. Alone, that is, save for the children. They always came when he did."

A trembling hand was soon pressed to her heart. The twins had been there too? Did they know who she was? A fear arose within her at the mere thought of appearing as a stranger to her own children. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed.

A gentle hand rested atop her own that lay in her lap. Looking into her companion's amber eyes, she saw only kindness and warmth and the willingness to help. "Please do not be afraid, miss," she said softly. "We know."

Nodding, Y/N looked down to where their hands rested. "Who are you?" She asked.

"My name is Senka, miss. I am a maid here. Her Majesty has tasked us all with your care and anything you might need for your recovery."

The Queen's generosity truly knew no bounds. At least, none that Y/N knew of. "What time of year is it?"

Senka smiled and glanced to the windows and the closed balcony doors. "Early in the days of Summer, I believe."

"Summer," Y/N whispered, a note of longing in her voice. She had been without the sun for too long.

With a soft sigh, Senka stood and offered Y/N her arm. "Lean on me," she said, and was rewarded with a bright smile. In truth, she held a good portion of Y/N’s weight as she struggled to stand and then walk.

"Come," Senka said, a twinkle in her warm eyes. "Let us go outside."

Delighted at the maid's change of heart, Y/N smiled wider. "Please," she whispered.

The journey to the grounds took more time that Y/N would ever care to admit. Every step caused her weakened legs to protest and threaten to fold beneath her. But soon, she found her breath stolen from her as they emerged from the manor and stepped onto its vast grounds.

The sun warmed her skin and made her gasp in delight. The grass beneath her feet was soft and as green as his eyes. Countless flowers allowed their perfume to mingle in the warming air. "Beautiful," she murmured, Senka humming in agreement.

While one arm clutched at Senka's, her free hand trailed along the petals and leaves of the bushes and tree they passed by, only coming to a halt by the shores of a small lake. Apple blossoms from the nearby orchard had landed on the water's surface.

"Did you ever see the children?" Y/N asked suddenly.

The maid smiled softly and looked out across the lake before she answered. "Indeed I did, miss." Looking back to Y/N, she saw the question in her eyes and sighed. "The last I saw them was a month ago when His Highness came. Such beautiful little ones and if I may, miss, they appear to have eyes similar in colour to your own."

It warmed her aching heart to hear it and yet, despite the maid's evident knowledge of the twin's true parentage, she dared not ask after him. "Was that the last time they came?"

Senka nodded. "I believe so. His Highness has not returned either, although that may have been influenced by the upcoming games."

"Games?" Y/N repeated, confused.

The maid nodded. "The biannual games. Chariot races, duels, tests of skill and so on and so forth."

Oh yes. She knew of these games. Not once had she been, having worked under Sigyn the last time they came, and yet, she was glad of it. The rumours surrounding the duels always turned her blood to ice. Slaves and prisoners were said to be pitched against each other in a fight to the death. The winner earned their freedom.

"I did not think such an event would interest him," she muttered before she could stop herself.

Senka chuckled and sighed. "Indeed, miss. But that is the only reason for his absence that I believe holds any merit."

Y/N was silent. In truth, what was she to say? It had been six months since she had seen him last. How the twins must have grown in their time apart! "Tell me," she said softly, "were the children yet walking?"

Senka shook her head. "No, miss."

Selfish relief flooded her.

"Shall we return inside, miss?"

Y/N shook her head and further settled herself along the banks of the lake. "Not yet. Let us stay a while longer."

And so they did. The sunlight sparkled off the lake and a soft breeze passed through, creating gentle ripples in the mirror-like surface. The birds sang overhead and the leaves created dappled patters on her arms as the sun moved to shine through them.

It was only as the sun began to sink below the horizon that Senka finally managed to cajole Y/N back inside and into the waiting softness of her bed. A warm supper was brought to her.

As Senka made to leave, dinner tray in hand, Y/N spoke up. "Might there be ink and parchment I may use?"

The maid smiled knowingly and nodded. "I do not doubt it, miss."

She had not written in some time and in truth, did not know what to say. Senka waited in the shadows as she deliberated over the right words to use. More than once the ink had dripped onto the parchment, leaving dark stains behind.

In the end, she supposed the simplest beginning was best...

_" My Prince, "_

~ ~ ~

"Your Highness?" A voice called from the door, pulling Sigyn from the book in her hands.

"Enter," she said and went back to her reading.

A boy stepped into the suite and bowed low before where she sat.

"Well?" Sigyn said, "if you have something to say, I suggest you say it."

Nodding, the boy complied. "I have nothing to say, Your Highness, only to give."

Intrigued, she set the book to the side and canted her head to the side. "And what might this be?"

Without a word, the boy pulled what looked to be a piece of parchment, out of his trouser pocket and presented it to her. Two words caught her eye, written neatly, they were in hand she had never seen before. "Thank you," she murmured, distracted and dismissed the boy with a wave. Only once the doors had closed did she break the seal. Who had felt the need to write to her husband?

_"It seems I have quite forgotten how to write, for no suitable words come to me. It has been quite some time since I have last felt the need to pen a piece of correspondence._

_I am told that I was asleep for three months after I was brought back. Three months! Three months more away from you and our children. I imagine them to have grown quite a bit since I last saw them. I miss them terribly, every beat of my heart is a reminder of yet another moment spent away from them. Away from you. I find myself counting the moments to when I might see you again, to when I might hold Vídarr and Ayla in my arms once more._

_Please know that should you find it within yourself to pay the manor a visit, I will be waiting, my heart aching within me for a mere glimpse of you after so long a separation._

_Should you be reading this and the twins are with you, please give them a kiss from me and an embrace as well and know that one is waiting for you._

_All my love,_

_Y/N "_

The parchment crinkled in her hands as she crushed it. So she had returned then. The elven bitch was back and intent, it seemed, to take back what was hers. Just who had facilitated her return, she knew not. Now she knew where he had gone all those times he would disappear from the palace for hours on end. Silence had been his only answer to her questions of his whereabouts.

Thor too, had grown suspicious and had had no further luck than she in determining where his brother might have gone. That, however, had changed when he was called to Midgard and had returned more furious than she had ever seen him.

She had found ways of course, to keep Loki at the palace, the twins too. She employed ways and means to keep the younger Prince from wondering off, though not always successful. For the better part of the last month, she had kept him and the twins at the palace and now with the games approaching, why, it seemed the Fates were favouring her. As Prince, it was his duty to participate in the planning of the games.

Glancing down at the letter one more time, she snarled before throwing it to the flames in the hearth and watched as the parchment and ink were reduced to ashes. The warm oranges and yellows of the fire served to illuminate the smile beginning to curve her lips. Iyan was returning for the games and it would seem as though she had found a new competitor for the duels of mortal combat.

Her smile dripped with satisfaction and cruel glee.

The opening of the chamber doors drew her from her thoughts. Turning away from the fire, she saw that it was none other than her husband. It seemed he was completely oblivious to her presence as he rocked the children in his arms before lay them down in the crib that stood at his side of the bed.

"Why do you stand by the fire when the nights are warming?"

Not so oblivious then, it would seem. His emerald eyes had caught on the firelight as he watched her, blocking her path to the twins. Ever the guardian.

"The flames fascinate me," she replied. "You know that."

"Indeed I do," Loki muttered and moved closer, always keeping her in his sights. Drawing a breath, he looked down at the flames, not seeing his wife's eyes dart the same way. His eyes narrowed as a piece of inked parchment caught his eye. It was small and bore but a single word. Intrigued, he knelt and made to reach for it when it was Sigyn's hand resting atop his.

"Do not trouble yourself, husband," she murmured, drawing his hand away from the flames. A hand he immediately snatched away from her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing of import," she replied and met his gaze. "That is why I burnt it. It did not merit the space it would have taken up had I kept it."

Glancing back at the fire, Loki saw no trace of the parchment left. Letting out a breath, he turned on heels and made for the bed and lay on his side facing the cradle. The twins slept soundly, curled around each other beneath the blanket Frigga had made for them.

Reaching out, he gently smoothed their hair, feeling the small huffs of their breath on his wrist. He would try again. Come the new day, he would try again.


End file.
